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THE TRANSPLANTED 




The Transplanted 


A STORY OF DIXIE 
BEFORE THE WAR 


BY 

MARY A. H. GAY 

Author of " Life in Dixie During the War " 


NEW YORK AND WASHINGTON 
THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
1907 










UhjiiARYof CONGRES^ 

Two Coole? Recdvod t 

SEP 16 190r 
, . Copynjtil Biiliy 
Mttd /V,A?f 7 

CLASS A No. 

S 

COPY B. 


COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY 
MARY A. H. GAY 


INTRODUCTION 


^Tt is a gentle, a faithful and a tender hand 
that guides the pen — a soul nerved to sacrifice 
that tells the tale,’' says Mr. Joel Chandler Har- 
ris in his introduction to Miss Gay’s “Life in 
Dixie During the War.” He goes on to say, 
“Here indeed is one of the sources from which 
history must get its supplies.” The words of 
Mr. Harris apply to this. Miss Gay’s latest 
book. He leaves little for me to say. 

Miss Gay knows the South and her tradi- 
tions, the South of the past and the South of 
the present. She lived through the happiest 
days of the South, and she passed through those 
dark days when Reconstruction threatened the 
best of Southern institutions, a reconstruction 
that would be forced by the North — not that 
reconstruction of a valiant people of their own 
making, which they have worked out in spite of 
the utmost difficulties. The South has been re- 


constructed — not by the Federal Government, 
but by the Southern people themselves. 

In this book Miss Gay tells of the Southern 
people as she has known them. She writes inti- 
mately and lovingly. No malice guides her 
pen. She has that broad charity which is a 
part of the Southern people. 

And these are very charming people. Their 
traditions and their customs are very much the 
same to-day as they were one hundred years 
ago. Miss Gay has rendered valuable service 
to the entire country in describing the South of 
the forties — the South of yesterday, the South 
of to-day. 

There is no effort in this volume at literary 
effect. The author tells her story in a plain 
way, and there lies its strength. I^iterary sin- 
cerity can be accomplished in one way only : in 
the truth of the story that the author has to tell. 
There is no literary insincerity in this volume. 

Walter Neale. 

New York City, July lo, 1907. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 



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J^£a. 







CHAPTER I 


Away back in the forties of the nineteenth 
century there dwelt on a Mississippi planta- 
tion, “remote from the busy scenes of life,” a 
middle-aged gentleman of refined manners, 
mental culture, and captivating personality. 
The well-modulated tones of his voice and 
broad accent proclaimed him to be of Scotch 
extraction, a fact which never lost interest to 
him, and which he perpetuated by the preserva- 
tion of every legendary item concerning the 
Greames, the Watsons, the MacFarlands, and 
the Hortons. And notwithstanding he had 
never seen the heather-clad hills, nor the sil- 
very waters of Loch Lomond, he could de- 
scribe their varied beauty with remarkable 
accuracy. 

He could tell with minute correctness the 
great moves on the political chessboard of 
Scotland made by illustrious families to check- 
mate “the intrigue of Britain’s rapacity” ; and 


10 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


he could recount with marvelous interest the 
causes determining those intrepid men to cast 
their lot in the Western Hemisphere. He could 
tell where the McEarlanes pitched their tents 
in Virginia, and where the Greames halted in 
North Carolina; and with no less accuracy lo- 
cate the identical spots in Georgia chosen by 
the Hortons and Watsons to be their abode in 
the New World. And yet this gentleman of 
refined taste and aristocratic bearing had trans- 
planted himself from the classic shades and 
sunlighted groves of Oglethorpe University, 
his alma mater,, to the dense forests, the impene- 
trable swamps and rich fields of the great cot- 
ton belt of the South. Thus secluded he ad- 
dressed himself to the acquisition of wealth, 
and at the time our story opens was a very 
rich man. Being a bachelor, he had not yet 
felt constrained to build a house in keeping 
with his means, and at the time of the writer’s 
visit to him occupied a primitive hewed-log 
dwelling, containing two rooms identically the 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


II 


same in appearance and proportion, separated 
by a broad hall, and on either side a piazza and 
^‘shed-room/^ The lattice enclosing part of the 
back piazza supported a luxuriant hopvine. 
The front entrance differed only in its orna- 
mentation — an ever-blooming honeysuckle, in 
wanton growth, which played hide-and-seek 
through the lattice, and stopped not until it 
decorated the housetop with its soft-tinted 
blooms and dark green foliage. 

Not behind the trellised ornamentation, how- 
ever, will we stand to admire this little Eden 
in the wilderness, but go out under the open 
sky where we can contemplate the view from 
every point. It is the month of November, 
and yet no sensation of cold admonishes of 
winter’s approach. The grounds belonging to 
the house, and appropriated to flowers and 
shrubbery, consist of a rich spot of sandy loam, 
which has been laid off in circular form. With- 
in the fence enclosing this unique spot it is sur- 
prising how much that is captivating to the 


12 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


eye grows and luxuriates in all the splendor of 
perfection. Roses, queenly and graceful, and 
endless in variety, shed petal and perfume in 
generous profusion; dark green spruce pines 
mingle aroma with the many-colored ‘Vinter 
pinks” ; marigolds, bachelor-buttons, “old 
maids,” and crimson hibiscus add to the beauty 
and charm of the scene. Thyme and mint and 
other aromatic herbs hav^ not been omitted, 
and they too are generous with health-giving 
odor. 

The broad sandy walk is bordered by a bed 
of Scotch heather; and from the gate, and 
leading into a much-traveled country road, is 
a broad avenue lined on either side by water 
oaks of uniform size and symmetrical propor- 
tions. To diversify the beauty of this avenue, 
at stated intervals an oleander, blooming the 
second time during the season, breaks the mo- 
notony of the heavy oak foliage by its crim- 
son flowers. 

We extend our vision now beyond the en- 
closure, so unique in construction that it would 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


13 


serve as a model even at this remote period. 
It consists of huge square posts, receiving and 
supporting immense smoothly planed rails. 
Outside of this enclosure, approaching to with- 
in ten feet of it, and extending so far into 
the distance that the tops of the forest trees 
appear like a dark belt around them, are fields 
bearing the wealth of the South. An abun- 
dant crop of the staple article of Southern com- 
merce, not yet picked from the bursting balls, 
imparts to the broad acres the appearance of 
snow-clad plains. 

Standing upon the stile we take in the scene. 
Bending stalks, after yielding their fruit to 
unseen hands, resume an upright posture, ugly 
and unsightly objects. The space widens thus 
denuded of its glory. The cotton-pickers are 
at work. Esther, the queen of the kitchen, tells 
us how to reach them. She pilots the way. 
We soon discover the agents that are at work. 
We hear their weird, though not unmusical 
songs, before we reach them, and pause to 


H 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


listen. The words, if indeed there are any, are 
altogether unintelligible. 

We approach a group of negroes, to whom 
Esther introduces ‘‘Marster’s niece.’’ They 
had heard of her; and the women grasp her 
extended hand with loving cordiality, and the 
men take off their primitive hats and caps with 
a politeness that would shame the present 
regime. 

A short distance from this group of varied 
ages and sizes there is a gang of children con- 
cealed from view by the rank growth of cotton 
stalks from whose lower branches they are 
carefully picking the fleecy staple. A white 
man is overseeing this part of the work, and 
teaching with gentle hand and kindly voice 
these young negroes, ranging in age from nine 
to fifteen years, to do their work with fidelity 
and neatness. Thirty pounds a day is the full 
requirement of the oldest members of this juve- 
nile band of world movers ; and anywhere from 
three to ten pounds is satisfactory for the 
youngest. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


15 


The easy removal of the beautiful white 
fleece from the russet bolls is observed by the 
fair young visitor, and she is seized with a de- 
sire to try her hand at the useful industry. She 
calls for a basket, and to the intense amuse- 
ment of the children and their overseer she pro- 
ceeds to show skill readily acquired in an inter- 
esting exercise combining usefulness and fun. 

In vain does Esther scold and threaten to 
^^tell Marster on yer’'; and in vain she dwells 
with emphasis upon the effect such a course 
will have upon the negroes. “Dey’ll call yer 
po’ buckra, so dey will. Dey don’t lak w’ite 
fokes dat works, so dey don’t.” Crushing as 
this last argument is intended to be, it is un- 
heeded, and the basket is filled to overflowing 
with pretty soft cotton. Perceiving this, one 
of the boys runs and empties it into a large 
basket which he is using, and returns it to her 
with a motion of the hand indicating that more 
help toward filling his basket would be most 
acceptable. “Pick more” is spoken by facial 
expression and every gesture. “I golly, her 


i6 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


done full her baskit ergin — her ar’ dat/’ is the 
astonished comment of children who perhaps 
never saw the face of a white girl before, and 
who regard ''Marster’s niece” as a sort of 
anomalous being worthy of adoration. To 
these children of the field she would speak 
words of instruction but for the vigilant eye 
of the overseer, who evidently does not like to 
have their thoughts diverted from the pains- 
taking lessons he is giving them. 

Returning to the “big-house,” we pass the 
main body of the youthful cotton-pickers. Our 
approach is greeted by a chorus of merry 
laughter, sounding very much like “Ha, ha, 
ha !” varied by “He, he, he !” and broad, good- 
natured grins display rows of very white teeth ; 
and eyes, remarkable for their power of dila- 
tion and the amount of white around the iris, 
fairly brim over with glee. As I pass them I 
pause and ask, “Children, who made you?” 
“Gawd.” “That is right, I thought you knew 
that God made you. When I come again I 
will tell you a pretty story.” 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


17 


In the absence of ‘'the lord of the manor” 
we will turn our attention to the interior of 
his cozy dwelling. One of the large rooms in 
the main portion is occupied by himself, when 
at home, as a sleeping apartment. A large 
highpost bedstead, of antique pattern, covers 
almost one-fourth of the floor, and its draper- 
ies equal in whiteness the drifted snow. The 
“pillow slips,” as the maids of housework per- 
sist in calling them, are of Irish linen. There 
is a chest of drawers, and a wardrobe huge in 
size and elaborate in finish. A washstand, 
toilet set, and other appurtenances to bachelor 
convenience are arranged near a window which 
furnishes favorable light for tonsorial manipu- 
lation, etc. ; and near by a mahogany pedestal 
supports a mirror of rare beauty and reflective 
excellence. A bookcase of the same pretty 
wood and workmanship, filled with standard 
literature, occupies the opposite corner; and 
extending from the bookcase to the door enter- 
ing the hall are several shelves upon which, ar- 
ranged without eye to congruity, are many 


i8 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


well-bound volumes of American prose and 
poetry. Conspicuous in this cottage library 
is an old red morocco Bible, the gift of his 
mother before his departure from his boyhood’s 
home. Without positive convictions of re- 
ligious character, he keeps this book ever near 
him, — a talisman to avert evil, — and many pas- 
sages of its fine poetic imagery have found 
lodgment in his mind and heart, and have ele- 
vated the purposes of his life. A well-worn 
copy of Plutarch’s Lives gives evidence of ap- 
preciation of heroic deeds and time-honored 
oratory ; and Blackstone finds goodly company 
in the assemblage of his literary contem- 
poraries. 

Magazines have also found their way to this 
bachelor’s library. The first number of 
Harper's, and all the subsequent issues, stand 
in dignified stacks on table, shelves, and man- 
tel. In close proximity there lies, in an ebony 
case, a violin of exquisite tone and rare 
mechanism, silently testifying by its presence 
to the musical taste of its absent owner. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


19 


Curios of value and interest claim attention, 
and send the mind in quest of knowledge to the 
remotest bounds of earth. In this heteroge- 
neous collection a bona-fide head of a stag with 
antlers suggests successful chase, and other 
trophies of triumphant marksmanship adorn 
the walls. 

The room across the hall, or ‘'passage, ” and 
opposite the one so minutely described, is less 
crowded with furniture, books, and treasured 
relics, but is very neat and complete in its ap- 
pointments. The beds, double and single, 
would furnish satisfying slumber to the most 
fastidious queen, and the snow-white drapery 
appeal to her admiration. A plain chest of 
drawers, two or three tables covered with 
green baize, a wall mirror, and some cushioned 
chairs complete its furnishings. The floor is 
uncarpeted, except by rugs woven of home- 
spun woolen thread dyed with madder and 
home-raised indigo. Upon the mantelpiece 
are two tall silver candlesticks with sperma- 
cetti candles. 


20 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


The dining-room, though contiguous, is ac- 
cessible only by a door opening into the hall 
which runs the full width of the house. In 
this room is an old-fashioned folding table, and 
a sideboard with glass knobs and claw feet. 
Both of these articles of furniture are kept in 
a high state of preservation and polish by ex- 
pert application of “elbow grease.” A corner 
cupboard, made when the house was built, is 
kept in faultless order as a receptacle for table 
linen and fine china. A set of chairs complete 
the furnishings. 

In the rear of the house and connected to it 
by a floored and roofed walk, is the kitchen, 
with its broad open fireplace in which hangs a 
crane. In this apartment there is everything 
necessary to old-time convenience in the culi- 
nary line. A short distance out, and in full 
view of the “big-house,” is a well-ventilated 
oaken dairy. This establishment is Esther’s 
special care, and the tiniest spot on its surface, 
exterior or interior, receives her immediate 
erasive attention. 


CHAPTER II 


It is now near the Christmas time, yet no 
touch of frost has left its withering blight upon 
the beauty of Rose Circle. The flowers retain 
their brilliant hues and sweet perfume, the 
birds sing with the musical cadence of early 
spring, and all nature in happy mood seems 
waiting for something, and is loth tO' give up 
a single charm until that something has taken 
place. 

‘‘Esther, do flowers bloom and birds sing all 
winter ?” 

“No, ma’am,’’ she answered with emphasis, 
“dey er waitin’ ter show the’rse’fs to Marster, 
w’en ’im comes back f’um ther big city whar 
’im’s bin er makin’ laws fer po’ buckras w’at 
don’t know w’at law es. Dese birds knows 
Marster loves ’em, an’ dey fa’rly jumps inter 
his bosom an’ kisses ’im w’en ’im comes 
home.” 


22 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


‘‘What about the young lady we saw here 
with Mrs. Winston the day we arrived 

With contemptuous shrug of the shoulder, 
and disdainful uprising of the organ recognized 
the world over — ^be it pug or aquiline, Cauca- 
sian or Ethiopian — as the nose, in an elevated 
voice she replied : 

“Her no lady. Marster wouldn’t wipe his 
foots onter her, so ’im wouldn’t. Her thunk 
her’d look mighty gran’ settin’ up ’ere en der 
big-house, an’ niggers waitin’ on her. No, 
ma’am, Marster wouldn’t wipe his foots on 
sech as her, so ’im wouldn’t.” 

“Admitting all you say to be true, you can- 
not deny that she is pretty, and refined, and 
attractive, and quite capable of winning any 
gentleman’s affections.” 

The haughty disdain with which this opinion 
was received cannot be reproduced by the most 
faithful verbal portraiture; and but for the 
fact that “Marster’s niece” would soon have 
his protection, she too, I doubt not, would 
have come in for similar vituperation. A calm 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


23 


and unflinching eye, placed steadily upon 
Esther, had the effect of repressing further ex- 
pression of hatred toward one whose only 
offense was that of being attractive to her 
master. 

The suddenness with which this woman 
changes her tactics reminds one of the chame- 
leon, and, to borrow one of the inimitable Bill 
Arp’s expressions, I “ruminated” upon the pos- 
sibility of evolution. In the twinkling of an 
eye she transforms herself into a gentle, lov- 
ing servant of the old school. No trace of the 
anger she so recently displayed mars the pla- 
cidity of her face, and her voice recently so 
harsh becomes almost musical in its tender in- 
tonations. It is amusing to see the care with 
which she selects one of the prettiest of every 
variety of flower that grows at Rose Circle, 
and the taste with which she arranges them 
into a “nosegay.” 

Mischievously I inquire, “Are you making 
a bouquet for the young lady of whom we were 
speaking ?” 


24 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


With calm deliberation she answered, ‘‘No, 
honey, I’se er makin’ et fer er lady — I is ! Ef 
dat po’ w’ite trash neber gits er — er — w’at does 
yer call et? — ^yes, er bokay, twell I gives et ter 
her, her’ll do ’thout et twell doomsday, en er 
day arfter.” 

By this time Esther’s collection of flowers 
was completed. From the gorgeous hibiscus 
to the lowliest candytuft, nothing had been for- 
gotten. Although I had suspected for whom 
this elaborate bunch of flowers and ferns had 
been gathered, and had mentally prepared a 
little speech in acknowledgment, I was silenced 
by the humble grace of the giver as she begged 
me to accept it as a token of her love, and I 
could only say, “Thank you, Esther; I will 
preserve some of them in my herbarium, and 
think of the giver every time I look at them.” 

The monotony of life at Rose Circle would 
have palled upon the senses of most girls, but 
to “Marster’s niece” it was novel and full of 
interest. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


25 


To her books have ever been a source of 
joy; and here in this quiet spot there was time 
to devote uninterruptedly to reading and study. 
The heavy Saturday’s mails furnished desul- 
tory reading for the week. McMakin’s Phila- 
delphia Saturday Courier, and papers published 
at Georgia’s capital and that of Mississippi, 
kept us in touch with the outside world. Let- 
ters from home came at regular intervals, and 
gave every item of news from there as collated 
by a judicious and discriminating mother. The 
dear little brother and sister were too small to 
write; but loving messages came from them, 
and answering these was her chief delight. 

Other occupations accumulated. The plan- 
tation negro women came to see us Saturday 
afternoons, and never failed to ask assistance 
in sewing. ‘'Marster’s niece,” who had never 
cut a dress for herself, became quite expert in 
fitting frocks for them by patterns they had 
brought from “old Georgy,” and she learned 
by practice to make quite pretty caps for the 
old women; and her aunt, Mrs. Kendrick, 


26 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


whom she accompanied to Mississippi, was 
kept busy with similar employment. Esther, 
Nancy, Peggy, and several others were good 
plantation seamstresses; but the old women 
thought they slighted their work, and wanted 
no help from them. I was more than repaid 
for efforts to please them by their gratitude 
and fervent invocations to the good Lord “ter 
bress an’ keep Miss Polly’s li’l’ gal f’um all 
harm.” 

“Yo’ es des lak yer good mar, honey; her 
could do anythin’ her put her han’ ter — her 
could. Gawd bress yer, chile, fer w’at yer’s 
done fer dis po’ ol’ nigger.” 

“Don’t mention it, Maum Celia; I am only 
too glad to serve you in any way.” 

“Ef yo’ is, honey, come ter see me. I wants 
ter show yer mer pigs, an’ mer cow, an’ mer 
chicks, an’ mer ol’ man, an’ mer — ” 

Maum Celia’s invitation to see her earthly 
possessions was abbreviated by an unexpected 
event. From one end of the piazza, completely 
hidden from outside view, a scene is observed 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


27 


which is unique and interesting. Esther was 
in her glory. She had espied the approach of 
Major Winston’s carriage in time to drape her 
head in white turban after the fashion of ‘‘col- 
ored ladies” of that period, and to exchange 
check apron for a white one. 

Thus equipped she sallied forth, all smiles, 
to assist the ladies out of the carriage, and to 
conduct them to the 'Tig-house.” 

Their cards having been given her to convey 
to Mrs. Kendrick and her niece, she excuses 
herself and precedes them. The cards bear the 
names of Mrs. Winston and Miss Winston, 
and of "Miss Corinne Williamson, Boston, 
Massachusetts.” 

A spirit of mischief prompts my inquiry, 
"Who are they?” 

"Missis Winston an’ her daughter, all right. 
Dey’s big fokes. Marster Winston is er big 
man, ’im is! He’s en Jackson, whar mer 
Marster es er makin’ laws. Dey’s both er corn- 
in’ home soon, an’ dey’ll stay twell arfter 
Chris’mus.” 


28 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


''But who is Miss Williamson?’’ 

Esther’s shrugs of the shoulder was familiar 
to me. I had seen it before, and was prepared 
for the following statement concerning the 
young lady : 

"Don’t yer know, honey, her de w’ite gal 
yer see ’ere de fus’ day yer come. Her is de 
po’ w’ite trash w’at teaches school ’bout six 
miles fum yere. Her’s jes’ takin’ on ’bout 
Marster — her is !” 

During this colloquy, which consumed less 
time than it has to repeat it, a few dainty arti- 
cles added to home toilet make me quite pre- 
sentable. 

The ladies are received by us with unfeigned 
pleasure and are delightfully entertaining. 
Mrs. Winston is a woman of most lovable per- 
sonality. Tall and graceful in bearing, and a 
fluent conversationalist, she is charming. 
Although not so tall by several inches, nor so 
fine a conversationalist, Miss Winston is almost 
an exact counterpart of her mother. She has 
the same creamy, semi-tropical complexion, 
heightened by rosy cheeks, and eyes that speak 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


29 


without the aid of audible expression. Miss 
Williamson is not less attractive in person and 
conversational gifts. She is a very beautiful 
young lady. Her age is perhaps twenty-two, 
though she appears scarcely twenty. Clad in 
a soft-tinted gray dress, with ribbon trim- 
mings harmonizing in color with blonde com- 
plexion and cerulean eyes, she seems an angel 
on a brief visit to earth, rather than a bread- 
winner from the frozen North sojourning at 
the South. 

The call of these ladies, and the invitation 
of Mrs. Winston that we, including my uncle, 
should dine with them one of the Christmas 
holidays, furnish themes for consideration and 
advice. My mind dwells with tender interest 
upon the pretty Northern girl sojourning 
among strangers; and I find myself putting 
warp and woof together to weave for her a 
life fabric, in which bright colors should pre- 
dominate. But, strive against it as I might, 
dark spots and somber colors would mar the 
brightness. 


CHAPTER III 


Several days subsequent to the call, already 
narrated, upon the ladies at Rose Circle, the 
barouche was brought out of the carriage- 
house, dusted, and a span of pretty horses 
hitched to it, Charles acting as coachman and 
Alf as outrider. At the cross-roads they were 
to join the Winston carriage and outrider, and 
together proceed to the capital for the purpose 
of bringing my uncle and Major Winston home 
for the Christmas holidays. These men and 
boys would have been recognized anywhere in 
the South as the slaves of gentlemen. They 
were neatly clad in comfortable suits of home- 
made jeans, spun and woven on the plantation. 
Alf was the exception. He disdained home- 
spun and homewoven clothes, and had surrep- 
titiously entered the wardrobe in his master’s 
room and helped himself to one of the best suits 
in it, somewhat out of date, though scarcely 
the worse for wear. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


31 


Alf was a unique character, and never felt 
his importance so much as when thus equipped 
and one of a quartette of trusted servants to 
act as a bodyguard on his master's return trip 
home. Much of the route lay through dense 
forests and swamps, and cotton-fields — the 
right of way through them being given for mu- 
tual convenience. On such occasions Alf made 
himself quite useful as gate-opener and general 
supervisor of cortege. 

Scarcely sixteen summers had developed the 
sunny nature of the lad, and yet he was brim- 
ful of fun, and of witty sayings gathered by 
log and light-wood fires in the plantation 
cabins ; and as he rode by first one and then the 
other of the equipages he amused himself by 
instructing his traveling companions in the art 
of etiquette. He was particularly solicitous 
that they should do nothing to lower the hon- 
orable standing of their respective masters — 
nothing that would impress ‘‘city niggers" with 
the idea that they danced attendance upon com- 
mon people when at home. 


32 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


‘'Lookee ’ere, Mr. Charles, an’ yo’, Mr. 
What-yer-may-call ’im, yo’ mus’ walk straight, 
an’ w’en yo’ goin’ ter pass er gentleman lak 
Marster’s an’ Marster Winston’s sort, yo’ mus’ 
take }er hat clean oifen yer head — dis er way.” 
(His hat is removed slowly, and with great 
show of respect.) “But w’en yo’ goin’ ter 
pass sorter rich fokes, yo’ mus’ jes’ tip yer hat 
dis er way” (another illustration), “an’ w’en 
yer goin’ ter pass po’ fokes w’at hain’t got no 
niggers, jes’ do nutten. Heah?” 

“Go ’rlong wid yer foolishness. I’se mighty 
sick uv et,” said Charles ; and two simultaneous 
cracks of two coachmen’s whips emphasized 
the impatience of these victims of gratuitous 
training in polite etiquette. 

Methinks I hear at this distant period the 
anathemas of pulpit Pharisees upon the heads 
of the people for instilling such principles into 
the mind of the negro. In doing so they betray 
ignorance of negro character, and, alas, of 
Anglo-Saxon character as well. Aristocracy 
exists alike in every portion of America, and 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


33 


in the darkest jungles of Africa. It is a la- 
mentable fact that people having the appear- 
ance of being poor are not recognized by many 
in this great Christian country. Even too many 
of the expounders of the religion of the meek 
and lowly Jesus discriminate in favor of the 
rich. “Sneaking and bowing and cringing on 
the one hand; or ignoring and scoring on the 
other, from' the highest to the lowest,’^ has 
always been in vogue in all phases of society, 
and as much in the society of to-day as when 
Thackeray wrote the sentence quoted. 

What wonder then that a universal habit 
should develop spontaneously in the heart and 
practice of the sons and daughters of Afro- 
Americans, and that they should look with 
scorn upon those less favored than their own 
white folks. Alf’s instructions, though given 
in a spirit of raillery, were an exact expression 
of his sentiment and principle ; nor was it con- 
fined to the “po' w’ite trash.'' His own race 
came in for a full share of that sentiment, and 
those of them: who belonged to men unable to 


34 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


own but a few negroes were treated with the 
meager respect meted out to their masters. 

The joyous day bringing the return of my 
beloved uncle came at last. In person his sister 
and niece received the cordial welcome of 
which his letters had already assured them. I 
was delighted with my uncle, whom I had not 
seen since I was a little child. He was as re- 
fined and sweet in manner as a gentlewoman, 
and gifted with the faculty of saying kind 
things so naturally that the mere suggestion of 
insincerity would have been rebuked. It would 
seem an easy task to describe his personality, 
and yet it is not. He was neither high nor low 
in stature, but an inconspicuous medium; 
neither stout nor thin, but of a pleasing avoirdu- 
pois, v/ith a form most symmetrical. The color 
of his cheeks v/as as ruddy as that of a moun- 
taineer, while the whiteness of his broad fore- 
head and the blue veins of his temples sug- 
gested the tender delicacy of an infant. His 
hair was literally ‘^as black as a raven’s wing,” 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


35 


and a few silver threads intensified its black- 
ness. His whiskers, worn “a TAnglaise,’" were 
as black as his hair. Eyes blue, and full of 
intelligence, heightened the charm of his face. 

I looked at this handsome, refined gentle- 
man, and marveled that he should bury him- 
self in the lowlands of Mississippi. There 
seemed from my point of view no necessity for 
the sacrifice. He had an efficient and reliable 
overseer, who, with occasional supervision, 
could have successfully conducted the affairs 
of the plantation. Then why the sacrifice 
of congenial companionship and expansion 
of mind by contact with mind, and the 
blissful pleasure of family ties and asso- 
ciations left far away in old Georgia? From 
another point of view, however, what seemed 
a sacrifice of himself may have been a 
blessing to so many others that the sacrificial 
altar was concealed by the beneficent drapery 
of charity thrown over it by God’s own hand. 
Experience had made him quite skilled in the 
administering of medicines, and his services to 


3 ^ 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


the poor many miles around Rose Circle did 
much to alleviate their sufferings ; while to his 
negroes it was invaluable. No widow, maiden 
lady, nor worthy man applied to him for assist- 
ance without receiving substantial aid and the 
promise of more if needed ; nor were his chari- 
ties confined to feeding the hungry and cloth- 
ing the naked. ''Drumtochty was a name in 
those days wi' the lads he sent to college/' 

The day after my uncle’s arrival at home the 
barouche was brought to the rear entrance, and 
I noticed that new harness, silver mounted and 
morocco trimmed, decorated the span of white 
horses with beautiful effect, and they were evi- 
dently very proud. Charles scarcely looked 
the same youth, so improved was he in appear- 
ance by a spruce brown suit of clothes pur- 
chased in Jackson. 

After a restless waiting of fifteen or twenty 
minutes, horses and driver were relieved by the 
appearance of their master. He walked leis- 
urely to the edge of the piazza, where he paused 
to put on his gloves. In the act of receiving 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


37 


his cane from his body-servant he espied his 
sister and niece sitting in the shadow of the 
hopvine. He blushed, and as he approached 
them his niece perceived that his fine white 
forehead had assumed a rosy tint. 

‘The force of habit,’' he remarked, “is my 
apology for so nearly leaving without speaking 
to my sister and niece. I hope it is accepted.” 

Our playful assurance that anything would 
be excused under the circumstances, led him to 
suspect that we had heard more than we really 
had, and his color again deepened; but he 
simply said, “I am engaged to dine at six 
o’clock this afternoon with my friends. Major 
and Mrs. Winston, and it will be quite late 
before I return. I hope to atone in the future 
for present apparent neglect.” 

I had seen my uncle only in a traveling suit, 
and in that he looked like an independent 
country gentleman ; but now, attired in a hand- 
some suit of superb black cloth, and a most 
becoming beaver, I was prepared to endorse 


38 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


Alf's opinion — ‘‘My marster’s de purtiest w’ite 
man en der worF.” 

As the barouche in which the beloved master 
of Rose Circle sat, the personification of ease 
and contentment, moved off in the direction of 
the Winston mansion, I recognized as Nancy’s 
voice: “Nigger, who es yer tawkin’ erbout? 
Ain’t ’im my marster? Ain’t ’im all uv us 
marster much es ’im’s yo’s? Say, nigger, 
answer me !” 

Alf took no notice of these questions, nor of 
the questioner, except to say, “Hush yer mouf, 
nobody wus tawkin’ ter yo’.” 

“Sho ’im is purty !” is heard from several 
points, and thereby were revealed other ad- 
mirers of my uncle. 

Esther, seemingly oblivious of passing 
events, employed herself transplanting herbs 
and flowering shrubs to the most unexpected 
places, and talking to herself ostensibly. 
Though hearing, I seemed not to hear, and not 
to see the vindictive expression of her eyes 
that had in them the cunning of the fox and 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


39 


the hatred of Lucifer as their stolen glances fell 
upon the “big-house” occupants. But for the 
fearful signification of some of her utterances 
I should not have attached sufficient impor- 
tance to them to give them second thought. 

“Know whar hm gwine? I reckin I does. 
He er gwine to saw dat brassy gal w’at comes 
’ere ser much wid Missis Winston. Tawk 
erbout er six er’clock dinner! Him got din- 
ner ernuf at ’im own house, so ’im is, widout 
runnin’ off ter Missis Winston’s ter git er six 
er’clock dinner. Him better er stayed et home 
wid he own w’ite fokes, arfter dey comes all 
de way f’um Georgy ter look at ’im. Deys 
ladies, so dey is” (with a furtive glance at the 
hop vine retreat), “an’ her is er brassy — I say 
et ergin — er brassy gal, w’at nobody knows 
w’at her es. Well! Ef Marster brings dat 
gal ’ere fer me ter wait on, I gwine ter pick up 
mer duds, so I es, an’ git onter der undergroun’ 
railroad, an’ jes’ go er sailen’ erlong up ter de 
Norf.” 


40 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


‘‘Yer is, is yer? I sees yer now, jes’ er 
sailen" erlong, er wishin’ yerse’f back ter yo’ 
good Marster's Tig-house,’ ” said a voice in 
most tantalizing tones. 

‘‘Dat yo’, Alf ?” 

‘‘Yas, dis is me.” 

^‘Yer good-fer-nuffin’ nigger boy! Pse er 
gre’t mine ter catch yer, an’ w’ar yer out wid 
er battlin’-bode, so I is. Yo’ is er hevesdrapper, 
so yer is. Well, yer done knows w’at I thinks 
uv yer now, an’ I won’t take back er single 
word, so I won’t. Hevesdrappers don’t hear 
any good er th’irse’fs — so dey don’t.” 

“I didn’t hear yer say anythin’ erbout me, 
Aun’ Easter; yer — ” 

‘‘Shet yer mouf, yer good-fer-nuffin’ nigger 
boy 1 Yo’ shon’t sass me. I’ll w’ar yer out wid 
dis hoe, so I will. ‘Aun’ Easter,’ I thunk yer 
say. No, bress de Lord I I’se no aun’ uv yo’s, 
yer yaller- faced nigger! Yo’ stan’ dar an’ larf 
et me ?” 

“Is yer th’oo, Aun’ Easter? Ef yer is, I 
wus goin’ on ter say yer wus er tawkin’ too 


THE T<RANSPLANTED 


41 


much erbout dat brassy-face w’ite gal, es yer 
calls her, ter tawk erbout dis nigger! Heah 
me? Ha, ha, ha! I might tell Marster on 
yer/' 

‘T thunk en mer soul dat is de mos’ ouda- 
cious nigger boy dat I ever sot my two eyes 
onter, so I does. Ef Fd er tawked dat er way, 
w’en I wus er gal, ter my betters, mer oV Mis- 
sis would er whupped de lites outen me, so her 
would." 

If AlFs impertinence to his betters achieved 
no other object than that of diverting her mind 
from imaginary grievances, this African Xan- 
tippe was benefited. The “gospel hymn" which 
she sang with unmeaning gusto had rather an 
equivocal ring as again and again she repeated 
the chorus : 


“De debel’s mad, 

En’ I es glad. 

I’se got de soul 
He tho’t he had. 

O glory hallelu, hallelu, 
O glory halleluya !” 


42 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


Could the X-rays have been turned on 
Esther’s heart at this moment, what a mass of 
intrigue and corruption would have been re- 
vealed — what an exemplification of the familiar 
adage, “Steal the livery of heaven to serve the 
Devil in.” 


CHAPTER IV 


Just as the sun, with great round good- 
natured face, was preparing to kiss the earth 
good-night, a tall, commanding-looking negro 
woman, who, though much younger in appear- 
ance, so closely resembled Esther in feature 
and general bearing that I correctly guessed 
their relationship to be that of sisters, galloped 
up to the gate, and dropping the bridle upon 
the horse’s neck, dismounted as one accustomed 
to such feats. Approaching my aunt and my- 
self, she curtsied to each of us, and said, ^T’m 
Nell, Easter’s sister, an’ I’m one uv ther plan- 
tation gals.” This graceful introduction of 
herself received in return a cordial handclasp 
and words of friendly greeting. We inquired 
kindly about her health and that of all the plan- 
tation negroes. 

‘T’m come ter arsk Miss Lucy, an’ Miss 
Mary, an’ Marster ter come an’ take dinner 
wid all uv us, Chris’mus day — dis cornin’ Toos- 


44 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


day. Will yer come? Gran’mammy an’ gran’- 
daddy, an’ Ann’ Cely, an’ Ann’ Judy, an’ Unc’ 
Bob, an’ Unc’ Billy — dey all uv ’em says dey 
’members yer all mighty well, way back in 
Georgy, an’ dey sho’ ’ll be diserp’inted ef yer 
don’t come.” 

I promised to go if I could get my uncle’s 
consent ; my aunt feared she would not be well 
enough to go; and neither of us could speak 
for the absent one ; but I promised to go to 
the “quarter” before Christmas to let them 
know, or otherwise communicate with them. 
This seemed satisfactory, and Nell was much 
pleased with her call. 

As the clock was striking the hour of mid- 
night my uncle’s return was announced by the 
joyous barking of a little canine pet that re- 
tired from view as soon as its master left, but 
came out of its kennel on his return to receive 
his caress and loving words 

Breakfast hour! Who so unfortunate as 
not to recall a favorite troupe of friends and 
acquaintances at this hour? The mind re- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


45 


freshed by slumber is active, sprightly, and 
ready to give and receive entertainment spark- 
ling with wit and repartee. Who does not re- 
call the soul-lifting tilts of those intellectual 
gladiators, Addison, Johnson, and their com- 
peers, around the social board at that hour? 
And to that hour the visitors at Rose Circle 
looked for the companionship of their kins- 
man; and though the tilts may not have been, 
in the restricted sense of that expression, intel- 
lectually as sparkling, they were, nevertheless, 
brimful of pleasure, and furnished food for the 
day's entertainment. Even from: this retro- 
spective point I recall incidents amusing and 
edifying. 

On this occasion my uncle was more than 
usually vivacious and loquacious; and, judging 
from his exuberance of spirit, must have re- 
ceived satisfactory encouragement in his mis- 
sion to the Winston mansion. He sprang the 
question. Is marriage a failure? There was 
but one present who could give an opinion 
from experimental knowledge. The junior 


46 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


member of the trio asked to be excused from 
an expression on a subject so momentous — 
though the tell-tale blush betrayed thoughts of 
one far away in Georgia, who, before he left 
Emory, had planted himself firmly upon the 
first rung of the ladder leading up to fame. 

My uncle, with embarrassment suggestive of 
guilt of great misdemeanor, which he had made 
up his mind to confess regardless of conse- 
quences, straightened himself to his full sitting 
stature, and, overcoming every trace of timid- 
ity, announced his ultimatum : ‘Whatever the 
diversity of opinion may be on the question, I 
have made up my mind to test it.” 

I congratulated him upon the wisdom of his 
decision, and added, “Matrimony is a divine 
ordinance, instituted by the only Lawmaker 
who never makes mistakes.” 

A subdued titter, scarcely heard, caused me 
to look at Amy, the table-waiter on this occa- 
sion. She understood the import of the con- 
versation, and saw in its culminating point the 
diminished power of Queen Esther, and was 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


47 


delighted. She could scarcely control her im- 
patience, so great was her desire to chagrin 
‘‘Aun’ Easter” by communicating to her the 
first admission of my uncle that he contem- 
plated an act the consummation of which 
would interfere with the almost untrammeled 
liberty and pursuits of this aggressive woman ; 
but she had heard it all, and needed not to be 
told. Concealed behind a curtain separating 
the dining-room from an improvised pantry, 
Esther stood in breathless silence, acting the 
part of an eavesdropper, and had heard every 
word of the distinct and well-articulated con- 
versation; and when the girl approached her, 
whispering that she had something to tell her, 
she picked up a rollingpin, and, but for Amy’s 
celerity of motion, would have knocked her 
down. 

‘'Now take dat, yer good-fer-nuffin’ heifer ! 
Yo’ thunk yo’ could tell me anythin’ I don’t 
know ’bout Marster? Yo’ thunk yo’ know 
anythin’ ? My Marster done tol’ me all erbout 
et, so ’im is! Yo’ come erlong erg’in ’roun’ me 


48 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


wid dem purty a’rs uv yourn, an’ I’ll pick up 
er longer stick nex’ time, an’ I sho’ will beat 
de life outen yer!” 

Thus another sin is added to the long cata- 
logue of wickedness that blackens the charac- 
ter of this woman. She had never heard her 
master utter a syllable regarding his admira- 
tion for the pretty Northern girl, and yet she 
‘Vished she might die” if she had not been 
brought into his confidence, and learned from 
him all the particulars. 

After breakfast on this memorable occasion 
my uncle handed each of us a rose-tinted mis- 
sive containing the motto ^'A Merry Christ- 
mas,” with the compliments of Major and Mrs. 
Winston, and an invitation to dine with them 
on Wednesday. As this invitation would not 
interfere with that of the plantation negroes, 
which had been conditionally agreed to, my 
aunt’s beautiful chirography was brought into 
requisition to indite our acceptance. 

Regarding the plantation invitation, my 
uncle said he knew it would come if it had 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


49 


not already done so, and he had after much 
thought decided not to accept it this Christmas. 
I impulsively glanced at my aunt and detected 
a faint smile of approval, and I feared my 
cherished hope of taking Christmas dinner with 
the negroes on this Mississippi plantation was 
doomed to disappointment. 

Ah, how I loved that plantation, where the 
broad acres were whitened by the snowy fleece 
of the cotton, and the forest beyond was clothed 
in verdure green diversified by a sprinkle of 
crimson and golden-colored leaves ! Where the 
stately magnolia and slender oleander grew in- 
digenous, and the mockingbird and the jay 
trilled their joyous notes in sweet accord all 
the year round! But to my happy astonish- 
ment my uncle gave his consent that I might 
go. 

I ventured several arguments to convince 
him that it was his duty to gratify his negroes 
once a year by meeting them on a limited equal 
plane, and receiving from them their social 
homage; but he was impervious to argument. 


50 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


When, however, I learned the true reason, I 
admired the force of character that could re- 
main inflexible under pressure. It transpired 
that the negroes on past similar accasions had 
taken advantage of the season’s privileges, and, 
after receiving their master’s Christmas offer- 
ing in money, would make a palanquin of their 
arms and hands, and by overpowering him 
would place him in it and trot around the 
quarter several times, importuning him at 
stated intervals to give them ‘"a permit” to buy 
whiskey at the nearest liquor grocery. This 
he had done on previous occasions, and the 
results caused him to vow never to do so 
again, as only by the strictest vigilance had 
fatal disaster been averted. 


CHAPTER V 


The day, the happy Christmas day, came at 
length — not resplendent with the glorious sun- 
light of many that had preceded it, but shad- 
owed by hazy, rapidly moving clouds, porten- 
tous of a disagreeable change of weather. My 
aunf s indifference to going to the plantation 
had crystallized into inexorable opposition, and 
I feared there was nothing for me to do but to 
accept the situation, and remain at Rose Circle. 
Just as I had made up my mind to spend the 
day with ^sop, and like Socrates amuse my- 
self with versifying some of his fables, my 
uncle took a seat upon a hassock near me and 
said, '‘Does my niece really want to spend the 
day with the plantation negroes 'T do not 
particularly care to spend the day, unless I 
could be of service to the old people ; but I 
should like to dine with them,'' I replied. Then 
followed argument pro and con in regard to 
such a course, and I came off victor. 


52 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


My uncle asked me what time I should like 
to go. ‘‘Not before eleven o'clock/^ I answered., 
But my preference regarding the hour was not 
to be accorded me. The sound of footsteps 
upon the threshold caused me to glance in that 
direction, and the tall, angular form of Nell 
met my eye. Approaching, she curtsied very 
humbly to her master and his niece, and then, 
seeming to forget what she came for, waited 
for a reminder and encouragement to make her 
mission known. 

My uncle, perceiving her timidity, asked 
very kindly, 

“What is it, Nell?’’ 

“Me an’ Car’line fotch ther horses fer Miss 
Lucy an’ Miss Mary ter ride on ter ther 
quarter.” 

“Have you provided no way for your master 
to go ?” 

The first suggestion of a smile broadened 
into a grin, as Nell replied with a good deal of 
piquancy, “I tho’t he’d do thet better’n me 
could.” 


THE TRANSPLANTER) 


53 


^^No, I cannot go to-day for reasons unneces- 
sary to mention ; and sister is not well, and has 
decided not to go/' 

A look of disappointment was Nelhs silent 
reply; but when my uncle added, ‘‘Your Miss 
Mary is going, though, and you must take good 
care of her,^’ Nell’s somber face brightened 
almost to a glow as she said impressively, “Sho’ 
I will!” 

My uncle saw that the girth was properly 
adjusted, assisted me to mount one of the plan- 
tation horses, and consigned me to the care of 
Nell and Car’line without any apprehension. 
As I sat upon the pretty black mare that was 
to carry me to the negro quarter, he asked me 
to wait until he stepped into the house and re- 
turned. The Indian basket which he hung on 
the horn of the saddle was carefully secured 
by bands of cloth tied around it. “After din- 
ner,” said he, “distribute the contents among 
my people. To the oldest give the largest de- 
nomination, and to the youngest give the small- 
est. Any of the old people can aid you in 


54 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


the distribution.- It is my Christmas gift of 
money; and they understand my plan of dis- 
tributing it.’’ 

No prouder persons than Nell and Car’line 
ever appeared in escort royal, and the strictest 
observance of the rules of etiquette, as taught 
to them by Maum Celia and others of the 
Georgia contingent, was carried out to the let- 
ter. For example, it mattered not what the gait 
of mine, their well-reined horses kept a few 
steps behind, and they observed ‘‘Marster’s 
niece” with gratified complacency. 

Car’line was much disappointed in not be- 
ing special escort to “Miss Lucy”; but she 
recovered from the disappointment, and at my 
request threw off the restraint which she had 
seen proper to impose upon herself, and became 
jolly and loquacious. Assuming the position 
of pilot, she was often some distance in ad- 
vance of me. One of these times she reversed 
her course and came galloping back at a rapid 
gait. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


55 


“Is there danger ahead, Car’line?’’ I asked. 

“No, ma’am, but I des tho’t y’d lak ter see 
er cotton-snake, an’ ther’s one yander — er gre’t 
long one, es big es mer arm.” 

“Do you think we would be safe from attack 
if we should go near it?” 

“Yes’m, dey don’t ’tack fokes, lessen dey 
troubles ’em. Yo’ stop, an’ I go back an’ mek 
et show etse’f, an’ then I does mer han’ so, an’ 
yo’ come. But yo’, Nell, yo’ needn’t ter come. 
Yo’ black nigger, settin’ up thar on w’ite 
fokes’ boss, looken’ ser gran’, ’cause yer got 
Miss Mary ter go wid yer ter de quarter,” said 
Car’line. 

“I tho’t yer wus er tellin’ er lie ’bout dat 
snake all ther time,” responded Nell. “Dat 
w’at mek me say nuttin’. Yo’ tho’t yer’d git 
Miss Mary ter gallop off wid yer ter see dat 
snake, an’ den yer’d er kep’ her, so yo’ did.” 

Car’line had had her say, and, not noticing 
the responding sally, she galloped off to look 
after the cotton-snake, which she correctly sup- 
posed would be a great curiosity to me. Fol- 


56 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


lowing her very slowly, the beckoning hand 
soon increased our speed, and coming up to 
her she pointed to the long, dingy-white rep- 
tile. As it lay on the ground, perfectly mo- 
tionless, a casual look would scarcely have dis- 
tinguished the difference between it and an 
ashy-white cotton rope about three inches in 
circumference. 

‘Took at dat head er hissen ! He er holden’ 
et up to hear w’at we wus er say in’ ’bout ’im. 
An’ jes’ look at he tail! He’d lak ter whup 
ev’y one uv us ter death, ef ’e could. Lookee 
yere, Nell, yo’ jes’ gallop ter dat fence down 
yander, an’ fetch me er gre’t big rail, an’ I’ll 
I’arn dat snake better’n ter lie dar an’ look ser 
imp’ dent at weuns, an’ strike he tail onter de 
groun’ lak him wus mad.” 

‘T would rather you would not do anything 
to him,” I said. “He looks as if the woods 
belonged to him, and I think the sooner we 
leave him in peaceful possession of his own, 
the better it will be for us. He is evidently 
very angry, and is only waiting for us to at- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


57 


tack him before he strikes at us. Let us leave 
him to get pleased in his own time.” 

Car’line hurried off as if there was another 
trophy awaiting her grasp, and reaching the 
cross-roads she diverged to the right. 

‘T'd lak ter know w'at in der name uv com- 
mon sense dat nigger's arfter now,” solilo- 
quized Nell. ‘‘Her's jes' lak gran'daddy say 
her is — her's er 'scapegoat, an' yo' nebber 
knows whar ter cotch her,” 

Nell and I had passed the cross-roads 
several hundred yards when I heard Car'line 
calling, ^Tlease'm, wait er minit”; and, rein- 
ing the horse so that I could see her, in vain I 
tried to repress an expression of delight too 
effusive to repeat. Every color of ‘Vinter 
pink,” and other autumn flowers, and regal 
roses, formed a bouquet worthy the acceptance 
of the first lady of the land, and it was pre- 
sented to “Marster's niece” with a native grace 
which would have been pleasing to the afore- 
said favored personage. 


58 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


‘Tlease carry them for me, Car’line, as I 
have so much to look after I might lose some- 
thing/' This request gave her much pleasure 
and she again moved off at a brisk gait. 

‘'Her’s er showen' herse’f now ter gran’- 
daddy, an' granny, an' ter Maum Cely, an' to 
Aun' Judy, an' ter all uv um, her sho' is," said 
Nell. 

Reaching the crest of the hill which had for 
some time obstructed the view, I came in sight 
of the negro quarter, and Car’line hitching her 
horse to the rack at the gate. I paused and 
contemplated the scene. Two long rows of 
comfortable pole cabins, divided by a broad 
street, and shaded at intervals by majestic 
water-oaks, furnished homes and playgrounds 
for children that might be coveted by many an 
Anglo-Saxon in colder latitudes. 

On either side of every cabin, and reaching 
to the street, was a bed of flowers : marigolds, 
bachelor-buttons, princess feathers, and winter 
pinks predominated, and grew without much 
attention in the rich sandy loam. The vines 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


59 


climbing over the doors had grown from seed 
brought first from Georgia, with instructions 
from Miss'’ how to plant and cultivate 
them; and these lessons had been faithfully 
transmitted along with the seed from one gen- 
eration to another. The shrubs and plants 
bloomed and bore fruit from year to year as 
good and as beautiful as when first planted in 
the new rich soil. The “yaller jessmin” had 
been discarded because of its ‘‘pizenous” quali- 
ties; but the ^‘balsam cowcumber” had been 
carefully preserved, because it “ho'ped all de 
oV peoples w’en dey had de colic, ef et wus jes' 
put en er leetle whiskey an' drunk w'en de 
pain wus on." Multiflora roses and “traveler's 
delight" furnished ornamentation around doors 
and windows. The sound of falling water re- 
vealed the existence of a stream in the neigh- 
borhood, and added an indescribable charm to 
the picturesque scene. 

It required but a few moments to take by 
nature's kodak a snapshot view of the negro 
village, or quarter, where I thought I was to 


6o 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


be the only white guest at the Christmas din- 
ner ; but in this I was mistaken. Sitting on the 
stile, in holiday attire, was the overseer, con- 
versing interestedly with several of the old 
negro men, among whom was a venerable- 
looking patriarch on crutches, who was pointed 
out to me as ‘^Unc’ Tom,” Maum Celia’s “old 
man.” 

When I rode up to the block to dismount, 
Car’line was there to assist me, and so was 
Nell, and with more vim than she had hitherto 
displayed informed Car’line that her services 
were not needed, and added peremptorily, “Dis 
job is mine, so it are.” The alighting had 
been observed by eyes to us invisible, and was 
the signal for a general move to meet me. A 
habit belonging to ante-bellum negroes was 
that of walking single file, and on this occa- 
sion they observed it punctiliously. First the 
old Georgia negroes, Maum Celia in the lead, 
came for recognition. With but a few excep- 
tions they all remembered me distinctly, 
although I did not enter upon the arena of life 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


6i 


until several years after my uncle’s removal to 
Mississippi; and they unanimously concurred 
in the opinion that I was just like my ‘^purty 
mar.” 

As each of the second delegation, consist- 
ing of younger women, met me, she grasped 
my hand with emotion for which I could not 
account, and accompanied the handshaking 
with the invocation. ''God bress Miss Pol- 
ly’s li’l’ gal.” "Yo’ is er purty li’l’ gal, sho’.” 
"Jes’ lak yer mar wus w’en her er li’l’ gal lak 
yo’.” "Mo’ lak her mammy dan any gal I 
ebber seed.” "Purty! her sho’ es” — and they 
all laughed in chorus. It is needless to say 
that "Marster’s niece” was much pleased by 
their accuracy of judgment, and a verdict so 
spontaneous and flattering, and ripples of mer- 
riment from her own happy heart joined with 
the laughing chorus. 

The aunties led the way to the door of 
Maum Celia’s cabin, and asked me to go in; 
not one of them would enter before me. As 
I entered I was struck by the evident attempt 


62 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


at style. Everything was scrupulously clean. 
The homemade split-bottomed chairs and stools 
were white and smooth from frequent scour- 
ing, and so were the tables and shelves; and 
the snow-white homespun and home-woven 
counterpanes upon the beds attested the per- 
fection of the primitive laundry down by the 
spring. Nor was this humble abode entirely 
wanting in decoration. A few common but 
rather pretty pictures were pasted upon the 
wall. An earthenware pitcher, in which had 
been placed the flowers which Car’line pre- 
sented to me on my way to the quarter, sat on 
the hearth. 

After taking in the situation, and showing 
my heartfelt appreciation of it, I said to the 
good old women who had put the house in 
order for the reception of their white folks, 
and who were favored by the presence of but 
one of them, ‘T want you to ask me all the 
questions you think of, and I will answer them 
if I can.” I had already told them, on the 
occasion of Maum Celia’s and Aunt Judy’s 


/ 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


63 


visit to Rose Circle, about my Aunt Kendrick 
and her son, and my Aunt Watson and her son 
and two little daughters of whom they had 
merely heard, and commenced telling them of 
my little brother and sister and: of my dear 
mother, when a horn was blown so loud and 
long that it was heard at the ‘‘big-house,” and 
announced the hour 

“When lazy dials point to noon. 

And clocks are chiming out the hour; 

When sable Phyllis ’gins to croon, 

And pigeons nod upon the tower.” 

“Well! Dat de dinner horn. Come to 
dinner.” 

I needed no second invitation, for the in- 
teresting adventures of the morning had given 
me keen relish for food. I walked by the side 
of Maum Celia and her best woman Aunt 
Judy (positively refusing to let them lag be- 
hind even a step or two) to the end of the 
two rows of cabins, and there beneath fine old 
elms and water-oaks were set two long impro- 
vised tables loaded with tempting edibles. 


64 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


There was a variety of smoking-hot vegetables, 
and meat, and fowl, and fish; bread of differ- 
ent kinds, the cornmeal hoecake, biscuits, and 
hop-yeast light bread, “good enough for the 
Governor”; dried fruit, preserved grapes and 
blackberries, and pies, all on the table at once, 
for there was to be no changing of plates. 

On a small table apart from these was some 
of everything mentioned, and, in addition, an 
iced cake. To this table I was conducted, and 
invited to be seated. Noticing arrangements 
for two more guests, I asked why Maum Celia 
and Aunt Judy did not come to the table. 
“Dem seats, honey, wus fer Marster an’ Miss 
Lucy, an’ bein’ et wus so dey couldn’t come, 
dem cheers wus lef’ dar by de plates so der 
sperets could see ’um an’ be glad ’ca’se dey wus 
wanted ter come.” 

“I know that my aunt and uncle will be 
pleased to learn that their absence from this 
nice table was so affectionately commemo- 
rated,” I replied; and then said, “When I 


THE TRANSPLANTED 65 

came this morning I saw the overseer sitting 
on the stile — is he to dine with us 

^‘Yes'm, but not wid yo’. He’s er w’ite man, 
but not my fokes’ sort. Heah et, honey, an’ 
don’t yo’ min’ him. I’ll fix fer ’im arfter yo’ 
es th’oo,” said Maum Celia. 

I turned my attention then to the old women 
whose guest I especially seemed to be, and 
urged them to sit at the table and partake with 
me of the good food their hands had pre- 
pared. But in vain did I beg them, and was 
answered in this wise: ^^No, honey, I wus 
raised better’n dat. My w’ite fokes teached me 
ter ’spect mer betters, an’ sho’ I does. Heah it, 
honey, an’ don’t min’ me, an’ I sho’ ter come 
erlong atter de w’ite fokes.” But for the 
thought that the deserving women, who on this 
occasion were entitled to the best, would get 
cold food, I should have enjoyed the unique 
dinner very much. 

The men and boys, women and girls and 
children as they came in rank (for it is well tp 
repeat, for the enlightenment of present and 


66 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


future generations, that there was caste, in- 
exorable caste, among plantation negroes) 
filled the two long tables. Caroline, Nell, and 
Nancy waited upon them. Car’line’s droll fun 
kept her table in perpetual uproar; and Nell’s 
sententious comments on Car’line’s wit and 
winsomeness were a source of merriment to her 
table. Nancy, a sort of floor- walker and su- 
perintendent in general, was quick to detect 
any unpleasantness, and was ready with heal- 
ing plaster for all wounds. 

It required but a glance, however, to see that 
if a queen for the day was to be chosen by the 
suffrage of both tables. Car’ line, although the 
homeliest of the trio of dusky maidens, would 
have been elected by acclamation to wear the 
crown. “Heah!” in a loud voice from Nell’s 
table startled every one within hearing dis- 
tance, and it was succeeded by the facetious 
command from the same source to “give ’ten- 
tion ter de prop’sition ter swop waiten’ gals.” 

This proposition, it is needless to say, was 
not accepted. The triumph of Car’line exas- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


67 


perated Nell, and she became sullen and less 
accommodating. Both had their respective 
friends and champions, and the spiteful sallies 
and repartee between the two factions might 
have resulted in a hand-to-hand conflict but for 
my presence and the contiguity of the over- 
seer. This incident had no tendency to impair 
the appetites of the black assemblage. They 
were accustomed to bickering over trivial mat- 
ters, and considered the state of feeling mani- 
fested by some of the young folks of no conse- 
quence whatever. And yet a stalwart youth 
at NelFs table, led by her to high excitement, 
stealthily opened a large knife, drawn from his 
pocket, and slipped it up his sleeve, ready for 
deadly work if precipitated by insult either real 
or imaginary. Cheerfulness on the part of the 
old women who waited on me with assiduous 
attention and importunities that I should “make 
out my dinner,” allayed uneasy foreboding of 
evil, and inspired me with cheerfulness as 
well. 


68 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


After I arose from the sumptuous meal, 
preparation was made to seat other guests. 
The old men now came forward, and I extended 
my hand in kindly greeting, and also with un- 
feigned cordiality to my uncle^s overseer. This 
act was quite a surprise to the sable aristocrats, 
and promoted the overseer to more respectful 
consideration than that usually bestowed upon 
him who for a stipulated salary guided and di- 
rected their labor, and exacted duty to their 
master’s interest, rewarding faithfulness and 
punishing insubordination. After Aunt Judy 
recovered from the surprise occasioned by my 
demonstration that I belonged to the people, she 
vouchsafed an introduction thus, ‘‘Marse Wil- 
liam, I recken yer knows dis is mer Marster’s 
niece.” 

I then went with Aunt Celia to her cabin, 
and we returned with the basket entrusted to 
her care that morning. 

After all had finished their Christmas din- 
ner, I asked the assistance of the overseer at 
a sort of informal reception to be attended 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


69 


solely by the plantation negroes, and hitherto 
presided over by my uncle. In tones distinct 
and commanding he secured the attention of 
all present, and then stated that they should 
come forward as their names were called to 
receive a present in money from their master 
by the hand of his niece. Much to my con- 
venience I discovered that the money was done 
up in packages, with the name of the one to 
whom' given written upon every package. 
Commencing with Maum Celia and Uncle 
Tom, the middle-aged women were called first, 
and received their portion with gratitude and 
humble courtesy. Then the men of correspond- 
ing ages came forward’, and each received his 
portion and laughed in anticipation of the 
"‘barca’’ it would procure for him in addition to 
the supply furnished by a liberal and consci- 
entious master. The boys and girls, with gig- 
gles of delight, approached the domain of 
Santa Claus with hands so open and straight 
as to suggest the application of a ferule by an 
old-time pedagogue. Nor were the little chil- 


70 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


dren forgotten, from the tiniest babe in its 
mother^s arms through all the stages of child- 
hood. 

Aunt Judy was punctilious about introduc- 
tions, and as each little one approached me she 
called its name and told it to curtsy to its young 
‘‘Missie,’’ and after receiving its gift it went 
through with the same performance, not me- 
chanically, but as a healthy, rollicking child. 

I was an object of curiosity, and familiarity 
was indulged without fear of repulse. More 
than one little hand had the temerity to try to 
flatten my nose in the fashion of theirs. My 
long black hair, braided and tied with a red 
ribbon, was a great curiosity to them, and they 
touched it charily, and looked at me from the 
crown of my head to the tips of my shoes. 

Much that was amusing and pathetic oc- 
curred during the presentation of the Christ- 
mas offering, and more than once my merry 
laugh rang out upon the air and was echoed 
by these slave children, their parents and 
grandparents; and more than once it required 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


71 


an effort to repress tears that suffused my 
cheeks. Their command of words being ex- 
ceedingly limited, a repetition of oft-spoken 
praise of ‘^Marster's niece” seemed more to 
their liking than anything else that they at- 
tempted, and: perhaps more to hers as well. 

‘‘Sho’ her is purty! Des lak her mar wus 
w’en her wus er gal down en oV Georgy. Yas, 
sah! Her is sho’,” was whispered in audible 
tones by the old people, and repeated at in- 
tervals with renewed satisfaction, and never 
failed to give pleasure to the object of their 
innocent admiration. 

“I golly ! ain't her purty ?” ‘'Yas, sah ; purty 
as dem pinks w'at grows en granny's yard*” — 
this from the younger ones, who' were filled 
with fun to overflowing from the combined 
effects of the dinner, the Christmas gifts, my 
presence, and the occasion in general. 

Hark ! a banjo and a fiddle, and Unc' Jack 
and Billy Bowlegs take “cheers” previously 
arranged for their comfort, by the ever- 
thoughtful Car'line, while they discharge the 


72 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


double duty of furnishing music and calling 
the figures for the dancers. 

After screwing the strings to the utmost 
tension, Unc’ Jack started the musical enter- 
tainment with that famous old plantation fa- 
vorite "‘Billy in the Low Grounds'’ ; not exactly 
as Paganini would have rendered it, but to the 
satisfaction of his audience, including the 
young white guest. “Leather Breeches” was 
next on the programme, and Unc' Jack, as if 
to assure himself of superior ability, scraped 
through it on three strings, one of them hav- 
ing been broken in the effort to again tighten 
the tension. At stated intervals in the rendi- 
tion of “Billy in the Low Grounds” his musi- 
cal colleague introduced an accompaniment of 
three or four sounds on the banjo that gave 
him infinite satisfaction, judging from the com- 
placent glances at his audience after each per- 
formance. 

“Choose yer pardners!” was the signal for 
the wildest disorder. The male contingent 
approached that of the opposite sex, and un- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


73 


ceremoniously grasping them by the arm led 
them to position in the set. The ‘‘big-house” 
girls resented the familiarity, and refused to 
be led, or rather jerked out, in this manner; 
and provokingly taunted the aspirants with 
being “too much uv er nigger fer me ter ^soci- 
ate wid.” 

The perversity of the girls who refused to 
be “took pardhers” was soon explained by 
the appearance of “other Richmonds in the 
field” from neighboring plantations, for whom 
they seemed to have been waiting before join- 
ing the terpsichorean circle; and although the 
circle seemed to be complete, these young 
ladies and gentlemen of aristocratic proclivi- 
ties found no difficulty in entering, and by 
careful management of figures soon had the 
cotton-pickers staring in wonder and admira- 
tion as Unc' Jack's fiddle emphasized their 
graceful movements, and rising to the require- 
ment really discoursed quite passable music. 

Nothing comes so near describing this and 
similar scenes in the old plantation days “be- 
fore the war” as the following lines : 


74 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


“Listen when I call de figgers; 

Watch de music es yer go. 

Chassay forrard ! now look at ’em ; 
Some’s too fast an’ some’s too slow. 

“Step out w’en I gibs de order, 

Keep up eben wid de line ! 

W’at’s got in dem lazy niggers? 

Stop dat stringen’ out behine! 

“All go forrard ter de center, 

Balance roun’, an’ den go back. 

Keep on en de proper ’rection. 

Right straight up an’ down de crack. 

“Moobe up sides, an’ min’ de music ! 
Listen w’en yer heah me speak! 

Jes’ look at dem Pea Ridge niggers. 
How dey’s bucken’ gin de Creek! 

“Try ter do yer lebbel bes’, an’ 

Stomp et lak yer use ter do! 

Jes’ come down on de Flat-Creek step. 
An’ show de Ridge er t’ing er two. 

“Now look at dat limber Jonah, 

Tryen’ ter tech de fancy fling! 

Who ebber seed er yaller nigger 
Dat could cut de pigi’n wing? 

“Try dat lick ergin dar, Moses! 

Tell yer w’at dat’s hard ter beat — 
How can sich er little nigger 
Handle sich a pile uv feet? 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


“Swing yer corners, turn yer pardners ! 

(’Pears de motion am gettin’ slow.) 

W’at’s de matter wid de music? 

Put some rossum on dat bow ! 

“Moobe up, Tom, don’t be so sleepy; 

Let ’em see w’at yo’ ken do. 

Light off en der grape-vine twis’. 

An’ knock er double shuffle too. 

“Who er dat double-pinted hoof, 

Steppin’ flings so hifalutin! 

He kick de dust plum out de planks. 

An’ jars de shingles on de roof. 

“Steady now, an’ check de motion, 

Les’ de fiddle stop de chune ! 

I smell de possum froo de cracks. 

An’ supper’s gwine ter call yer soon. 

“De w’ite fokes comes et mighty prancin’, 
Waltzin’ ’roun’ so nice an’ fine. 

But w’en et comes ter reg’lar dancin’. 

Niggers le’bes ’em way behine!” 

In a moment of triumph one of the visitors 
placed the ball of his right thumb upon his 
nose, and shook his hand exultantly as he 
audaciously gazed at one of the disconsolate 
youths who had sought in vain the honor of 
‘‘Miss’’ Car’line’s hand in the dance just con- 


76 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


eluded. The effect was disastrous. That the 
girls should manifest preference for the ^%ig- 
house’' servants was cruel injury, and hard to 
be borne; but when insult was added to injury, 
the smoldering flame burst forth in consum- 
ing fury, and but for the presence of a wise 
and discreet overseer, who asked that all who 
did not have honor enough to keep them from 
abusing hospitality would leave the place, there 
would have been furious fighting, and perhaps 
bloodshed, as several knives with glittering 
blades and razor-like edges had been brought 
forth from hiding-places and brandished with 
significant gesture. In more ways than one 
the girls manifested disappointment, and 
blamed the plantation boys for the entire un- 
pleasantness. 

In vain did Unc’ Jack seek by energetic 
handling of the fiddle and the bow to exorcise 
the demon of anger that had driven away con- 
tentment and merriment. In vain did the over- 
seer advise the resumption of that most exhila- 
rating of all exercises, the dance. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


77 


Seeing the deplorable state of affairs, and 
desiring to do something to divert the general 
mind from recent events, I proposed to the 
women that they and myself should dance the 
Old Virginia Reel. The acme of astonishment 
was reached when I sent word to Unc’ Jack to 
furnish music for that famous dance, as I 
wished to take part in its fascinating mazes 
myself. The alacrity with which he complied, 
and the unction with which he called the figures 
was inspiring. I watched the arrangement of 
the two rows of women standing stiff and prim 
opposite each other, and ready for action at 
the behest of Unc’ Jack, and was so interested 
in the scene that I quite forgot the part I was 
to play in the comedy, until reminded by Aunt 
Judy that this was my dance. Thus reminded, 
I approached Maum Celia in courtly style and 
said, ‘^Good afternoon, Maum Celia. Shall I 
have the honor of dancing this famous old reel 
with you?” A smile, the tips of her white- 
gloved fingers were extended to me, and we 
did something that required a good deal of 


78 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


celerity of motion from the beginning to the 
end of the long rows, until we got every couple 
into active service. As for myself, I observed 
no established rules or figures, but interpolated 
any motion that seized my fancy at the 
moment. The old women, who were quite cor- 
rect in the execution of step and figure, were 
embarrassed by having been eclipsed so far by 
the innovations of time, I had a compeer in 
the fascinating performance. Nancy caught 
the inspiration of youthful example, and she 
too injected, in accordance with the dictates 
of her own sweet will, the poetry of motion 
into that monotonous old reel. 

I sought by backward glances admiring 
spectators; but they had evanished. A fox- 
chase was more alluring than a reel even 
though conducted by “Marster’s niece.’’ Even 
the overseer failed to witness my remarkable 
feats of agility and graceful execution of im- 
promptu figures ; and in the absence of all other 
records it now devolves upon me to transcribe 
them from the imperishable tablets of memory. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


79 


As this unique performance was drawing to 
a close, heavy thunder announced coming rain, 
and at my request Nell and Car’line had the 
horses saddled and led to the block to carry us 
back to Rose Circle. I had shaken hands with 
the women and received their blessing, and 
told the children good-by in a general way, 
and was ready to mount the coal-black mare 
waiting to bear me back to the “big-house.’’ 
Nell, as if to prove that she was not lacking 
in activity, after assisting me to mount touched 
the pommel of her saddle and sprang upon her 
horse without getting upon the block; and 
Caroline mounted in like manner. 

Just as we were ready to “lope” off, the 
overseer emerged from the forest, and, by way 
of apology for his absence, said he had taken 
advantage of the withdrawal of the men- folks 
to go to see how his wife and children were 
getting on. I again thanked him for his as- 
sistance in the distribution of the gift fund, 
and for averting the threatened conflict, and 
bade him good-by. 


8o 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


By a rapid ride I reached my destination in 
time to escape a thorough wetting. The long 
pent-up rain poured down literally in torrents 
upon the thirsty earth, and at intervals in 
quick succession lightning flashes illuminated 
the whole face of nature as does nothing save 
that mysterious element known as electricity — 
that force destined to revolutionize the world. 

My uncle was a weather prophet, and rightly 
foretold the great fall in the temperature that 
would take place in a few hours. "Indeed,” 
said he, ""I think the morning’s sun will rise 
upon scenes of splendor — the earth encrusted 
with winter’s first instalment of ice ; and every 
flower, shrub, and tree bedecked in glittering 
jewels, which, when passing away, will leave 
no traces: of beauty, but only wilted foliage 
and lifeless flowers.” He was too modest to 
moralize upon a theme concerning which no 
new thought could be advanced, and changed 
the subject. 

""How did you enjoy the day?” he asked. 
My aunt and he were both pleased and amused 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


8i 


by the description of some of its events, but a 
troubled expression saddened his face when 
he was told of the visiting beaux, of the favor 
shown them by some of the colored belles, and 
of the jealousy manifested by the plantation 
men. His only comment, ‘'The affair is not at 
an end — trouble will yet result from it,’" im- 
pressed me that he spoke by the light of other 
days. The overseer was summoned, and an 
earnest consideration of the case ensued. He 
seemed to think it too trivial to cause alarm; 
but my uncle, who had studied negro character 
in all its different phases, could not be per- 
suaded that cause for alarm did not exist, and 
he urged that the utmost vigilance should be 
observed, especially over the movements of 
Jim. 

“From his childhood,” said my uncle, “he 
has ever been quiet, reticent, and sullen, and 
woe to him, if near his age, who insulted him 
or infringed upon his rights in any way. A 
knock-down was the first intimation he gave 
of having received offense ; and I very seriously 


82 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


apprehend summary punishment of his an- 
tagonist in this instance.” 

The overseer promised unremitting watch- 
fulness, and the matter was dismissed for that 


occasion. 


CHAPTER VII 


The morning came. Not bright and icy, as 
my uncle had predicted, but with lowering 
temperature and drizzling rain. I wanted so 
much to nestle down in one of the large chintz- 
cushioned chairs by the glowing fire in our 
room and spend the day with “Dombey and 
Son’’ ; but, no, we had accepted the invitation 
to dine with the Winstons, and we were in 
honor bound to do so. 

I ventured to ask my uncle if he thought 
Mrs. Winston would send for us on such an 
inclement day. The smile which took in his 
entire face, and twinkled his fine blue eyes, as 
he replied, ‘‘Yes, she will send,” and added, 
sotto voce, “She is too deep in my secret to 
disappoint me,” proved that there was no alter- 
native. So I began to prepare for the ordeal. 

My aunt had already arrayed herself in the 
ever-ready convenient black satin frock; but 
the crowning beauty of her attire was a thread- 


84 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


lace cap which adorned her beautiful head most 
becomingly. Her scrupulously neat and ele- 
gant appearance was an inspiration to me, and, 
with the aid of my maid pro tern, I too dressed 
in becoming attire. To commemorate the occa- 
sion, and to honor another far different in 
character, I believe I will tell what I did not 
wear to Mrs. Winston’s dinner party: A 
handsome straw-colored china crape, em- 
broidered from the bottom to the top of the 
skirt with double and twisted white silk floss, 
the lower portion so closely embroidered that 
it was scarcely possible to touch with the finger 
tips a spot not adorned with leaf, or bud, or 
full-blown flower ; but as these elaborate floral 
decorations reached upwards, they became less 
profuse, and terminated in tiny twigs and the 
tiniest of flowers which partly concealed their 
beauty under the folds of the sash. The waist 
displayed in front a lovely spray of embroid- 
ered flowers ; and the sleeves, long and flow- 
ing, were the counterpart of the skirt, only less 
heavy in design and handiwork, and with them 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


85 


I wore undersleeves of thread-lace. The bertha, 
made of the same beautiful lace, fell in grace- 
ful ripples to the waist. Red ‘Tngered coral,” 
with golden clasps, was worn for bracelets and 
necklace. The ribbon with which my braids 
of long black hair were tied, and my sash and 
silk shoes, corresponded in color with the crape 
frock. 

This beautiful suit had been worn before; 
and as I surveyed myself in the mirror I was 
proud to think that just as my mother looked 
when dressed to be introduced to General La 
Fayette, in the capital of Georgia, in the year 
1824, so I looked now. Reflected by the mir- 
ror, I also saw that my aunt was looking at 
me with an expression I did not understand. 
In it there seemed more amusement than ap- 
probation. I asked if she approved my selec- 
tion of apparel. ‘‘You must expect to meet an 
Adonis at the Winstons,” said she; and added, 
“Ask your uncle’s opinion of your choice of 
dress.” This I could not do, as he was also 
studying his own apparel with view to effect. 


86 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


I hurriedly disrobed, and donned a salmon- 
colored silk frock, with narrow silk niching 
for throat and wrist finish, and gaiters more in 
keeping with the day. 

‘The kerridges is ready, Marster,’’ was the 
laconic announcement of Alf as he stood be- 
fore the door of my uncle’s room. In a mo- 
ment a gentleman arrayed in a full suit of ele- 
gant black cloth, with a superb beaver hat, and 
cane and gloves in hand, came out. A shade 
of embarrassment heightened the natural tints 
of his complexion, as he perceived the interest 
with which he was regarded by his sister and 
niece. Not a change in his attire could have 
made improvement. The immaculate linen 
had received no crease by the insertion of dia- 
mond studs, and the wristbands, though se- 
cured by oval buttons on which his monogram 
was engraved, betrayed no sign of touch by 
the hand that placed them there. A thread- 
cambric cravat, arranged with artistic taste 
around a neck vying in whiteness, furnished 
a pretty contrast to his glossy black hair 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


87 


and whiskers. A black velvet vest of ele- 
gant texture, wjith figure the semblance of 
peacock plumage, furnished the only color in 
this faultless suit. A superb cloth cloak, circu- 
lar in design, reaching midway between the 
knees and ankles, and secured by a large jet 
clasp, completed the outfit. 

With Chesterfieldian politeness this graceful 
Mississippi planter assisted his sister and niece 
into the carriage sent by Mrs. Winston, and 
then seated himself in his barouche. The 
strong hand of Charles seized the reins, and a 
dexterous crack of the whip was the signal 
that all was in moving order; and never a 
leader of a pageant, or general in command of 
an army, assumed greater pomp and air of 
importance than the outrider on this occasion ; 
and never horses on Broadway displayed more 
graceful step than these steeds en route to 
Major Winston's mansion in the lowlands of 
Mississippi. 

For a while we traveled over good roads, 
not the worse for the rains of the preceding 


88 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


afternoon and night, and often the two vehicles 
were abreast, and pleasant conversation en- 
joyed by the occupants. My uncle knew every 
tree and shrub and flower, and the properties 
and uses of each, and their botanical classifica- 
tion, and grew eloquent in learned description 
of them. 

Anon we reached the causeway spanning the 
swamp — a swamp almost impenetrable to man 
and beast, so dense was the undergrowth 
among the mighty trees, and so deep the water 
which covered in many places every vestige of 
soil. We learned that the causeways were con- 
structed by driving logs, many feet in length, 
endways into the earth until they formed a 
compact body upon which puncheons, flat side 
down, were secured by iron spikes. On either 
side of the causeway were balusters, or hand- 
railing, to prevent driving or walking off the 
structure. A road thus built could not be ex- 
pected to furnish comfort to those who traveled 
over it, and my aunt and I were soon made 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


89 


sick by the continuous jolting, and conse- 
quently not disposed to be entertaining to each 
other. 

At length, however, we reached terra firma, 
and were pleased to have, before reaching our 
destinaton, a long stretch of delightful road 
covered by sand and bordered by large water- 
oaks. As we were ascending by circuitous 
route a little knoll, I chanced to look back, and 
a moving object in the distance riveted my 
attention. Long and anxiously I gazed 
upon it, and during a few minutes’ rest given 
the horses by the thoughtful coachman I dis- 
tinguished the outlines. Imagine my amused 
astonishment when I recognized the regal bear- 
ing of Esther, and her maids of honor, Nancy, 
Hannah, and Amy. With head erect, and 
spine so stiff as to need no whalebone support, 
she occupied a chair in a Jersey wagon, the 
personification of self-importance. She wore 
a black and white check gingham bonnet, and 
a shawl, also black and white. I noticed, when 
she came nearer, that she had in her lap a large 


90 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


package and a bandbox. The girls were 
plainly but neatly dressed, and very demure in 
manner. Their demeanor had so long been 
dictated by Esther that unless convenient to 
a door, or some other avenue of escape, they 
generally acted upon the principle thoroughly 
impressed upon their minds, ‘'Gals must be 
seed, an’ not hearn.” Their driver was decked 
in his master’s castaways, in such incongrui- 
ties as to provoke expressions of amusement, 
and it was my unrestrained merriment that 
attracted my uncle’s attention to our recruits. 
He looked on in silence. At length he said, 
“Our rearguard presents quite an imposing 
appearance this morning.” Receiving no con- 
firmation of that opinion, he added, “It is the 
custom of the neighborhood. An invitation 
to the white people gives a carte blanche to as 
many of the ‘big-house’ negroes as choose to 
go to visit those of their own race belonging 
to the plantation from' which the invitation 
issued.” 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


91 


Arrived at Major Winston's, he greeted us 
with cordial interest, and escorted us into the 
house. Mrs. Winston and her daughter re- 
ceived us, and conducted us to a lovely room, 
which with genuine hospitality they assured 
us they hoped we would occupy many days. 
Esther, not in black-and-white-check bonnet 
and shawl, but with a snow-white turban upon 
her head, snow-white neckerchief secured to 
her frock at the waist by a steel clasp, and a 
snow-white apron, was ready with her reti- 
nue of maids to divest us of cloaks, overshoes, 
etc. 

A few minutes only sufficed to assemble 
family and guests in the spacious parlors. 
Among the guests was one never before in- 
troduced to my aunt and myself, a Miss Martha 
Buckingham, who by a rather interesting co- 
incidence hailed also from Massachusetts — 
Miss Williamson's native State. 

Miss Buckingham was delightful, though in 
age upon ^‘the old-maid list." Evidently 
brought up in refined and cultivated society, 


92 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


and accustomed to luxury and elegance, she 
was without pretension, and seemed to have 
lived to impart pleasure to others. From the 
moment she grasped my hand with the cordial- 
ity of friendship, and I saw her soul through 
the transparency of her sincere brown eyes, I 
loved her, and wished — can’t you guess ? 

The Yule log was burning brightly, and the 
massive brass fixtures around the fireplace re- 
flected its cheerful blaze and genial warmth. A 
glance around the room was soothing. Noth- 
ing was wanting — ^books, pictures, and music 
were there, and congenial spirits and happy 
cheer. What wonder then that hilarity and 
converse free should add to the charm of the 
scene. 

We asked about the health of Miss William- 
son, and united in the opinion that the circle 
was incomplete without her presence. Mrs. 
Winston conveyed to her our compliments, 
and the request that she should join us as soon 
as convenient, and she came without delay. I 
thought at the time, and still think, that I had 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


93 


never seen mortal being more beautiful, and 
caught myself unconsciously repeating one of 
Byron’s most beautiful gems : 

^‘She walks in beauty like the night 
In cloudless climes and starry skies, 

And all that’s beautiful and bright 
Meet in her aspect and her eyes.” 

She was tall, lithe, and graceful in figure and 
motion, with a well-poised head coronated by 
a splendid coil of auburn hair that seemed now 
and then to have released a fettered ringlet 
which in gratitude lay lovingly upon her snowy 
neck. Her eyes were the color of the sky, and 
had an earnest, confiding expression that won 
confidence and love. Her complexion, very 
fair, had the soft tint of the peach bloom ; and 
her mouth, the loveliest feature of the lovely 
face, was that of a Hebe — rosy and expressive. 
Looking at her ever- varying color, and expres- 
sive eyes and mouth, it seemed an easy matter 
to read the thoughts that occasioned these 
variations; but, judging from verbal expres- 
sion, I often found myself disappointed in that 


94 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


conclusion. Her gown was of pure white cash- 
mere. The waist, close-fitting and plain, 
showed off a symmetrical figure to advantage, 
and the skirt hung in graceful folds. The only 
trimming was white ruching at the throat and 
wrists, and a broad white ribbon sash tied in 
an elaborate bow. A long, small-link gold 
chain, wound many times around the neck, and 
fastened by a clasp, was the only jewelry. With 
charming grace she shook hands with the trio 
of friends from Rose Circle, and took the seat 
offered her in the social group. 

With undue haste, I thought, my uncle sug- 
gested that music would be very entertaining 
to him, especially if Miss Williamson should 
be the musician. This suggestion may have 
been first made by a mischievous young friend 
in touch with the facts in the case. After 
several instrumental pieces of much merit and 
beauty, including variations of ‘'Home, Sweet 
Home,” my uncle asked her to sing “The Al- 
pine Horn.” She complied; her vocal imita- 
tion of the horn captivating all who heard it. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


95 


Several other songs were sung in the same rich, 
melodious voice, as a prelude to that which 
was to follow. After a brief interval she sang 
in tones every intonation of which was tender 
and pathetic, 

“ ‘Come rest in this bosom. 

My own stricken deer; 

Though the world has fled from thee, 

Thy home is still here.’” 

Taken by surprise. Miss Winston and I ex- 
changed glances, and I venture the opinion that 
older persons exchanged glances too. 

The announcement of dinner interrupted the 
expression of sentiment in song. Mrs. Winston 
had the tact to select my uncle to accompany 
her to the table, while Major Winston offered 
his arm to my aunt. Miss Buckingham took 
charge of me, and the two young ladies were 
ushered in by the youthful Master Edwin Win- 
ston. With an eye to general conversation dur- 
ing the repast we were seated with seeming 
incongruity. My uncle and Miss Williamson 
were too well-bred to manifest disappointment. 


96 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


however much they may have felt it, and each 
of them by vivacity of spirit and conversation 
contributed to the general entertainment of the 
dinner-party. Major Winston and my aunt, 
though somewhat quaint in their ideas of modes 
and methods of entertaining young people, dis- 
played wonderful tact on this occasion, and left 
pleasant impressions upon the mind of each one 
present. 

The dinner being over, Mrs. Winston re- 
quested my uncle to accompany Miss William- 
son to the parlor, and she and my aunt re- 
mained for a tete-a-tete around the table. Miss 
Winston, Eddie, and I went to the sitting- 
room, and engaged in various games and per- 
formances with a view to one another’s enter- 
tainment. But most of all I liked Miss Win- 
ston’s handling of ‘‘the light guitar.” When 
she played “The Spanish Fandango” I was 
transformed into a Castilian maiden, with all 
her love for dark-eyed swains and sunny climes. 
Eddie was equally enthused, and improvised “a 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


97 


poem in motion/’ which surpassed in terpsicho- 
rean art anything I have ever seen. 

The day was far spent when my uncle moved 
to order the carriage for our return to Rose 
Circle. This was peremptorily vetoed by our 
hospitable host and hostess; and the thought 
of the long, rough causeway, and its tedious 
crossing, made me hastily endorse the opinion 
that our return at that late hour would be rash 
and dangerous. A constantly falling tempera- 
ture was hailed with much gratification by 
those who knew the value of frost and freeze to 
land and health ; and these blessings were con- 
fidently expected before another morning. My 
uncle was not hard to convince that it would 
be rash to brave the threatening elements, and 
perilous to cross the causeway so late in the 
afternoon. 

When we again met in the drawing-room a 
close observer, yea even a casual one, might 
have noticed a valuable addition to the jewelry 
worn by Miss Williamson at the dinner-table. 
Now a magnificent cluster of diamonds and. 


98 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


besides, a plain gold circle adorned the engage- 
ment finger. The situation was understood, 
and even Eddie, precocious in instinctive 
knowledge, exchanged a series of meaning 
glances with his sister and myself. My aunt 
so effectually concealed her suspicions that no 
one could have told that they existed. As for 
myself, I did not have manners enough to 
feign ignorance of that which was apparent 
to every beholder, and, taking advantage of 
my uncle’s good nature, I made such plain in- 
sinuations that he surrendered, and in our 
presence and that of his most intimate friends 
made full confession. Standing in front of 
this group, and facing the north, with right 
hands clasped, my uncle and his affianced bride, 
with the solemnity of high and honorable pur- 
pose, acknowledged their betrothal; and that 
his sister and niece might be present at the 
nuptials, my uncle suggested an early day for 
its consummation. 

The silver candelabra were ablaze, and the 
ruddy light of the hickory fire played with the 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


99 


rich tints of the Turkish rug that lay, a thing 
of beauty, in front of the ample fireplace. The 
mahogany furniture, the rich-tinted window 
curtains of lace and heavy crimson satin, and 
the sweet-singing canaries in burnished cages — 
all conspired to produce a harmonious effect 
that seemed a fit environment for the enact- 
ment of such a scene. 

But I, a young and happy girl, witnessed it 
with foreboding, and needed not the mystic 
meerschaum of Ik Marvel to see a besom in 
the distance spreading its sable wings to swoop 
down upon the devoted couple, bearing away 
love and happiness and leaving instead dis- 
trust and misery. I chided myself for the un- 
pleasant reverie — it was in advance of my 
years ; but I was a precocious child, and 
wrestled with thoughts and feelings too deep 
for me. I sought to banish it, as one of the 
vagaries of an active imagination, and to enter 
into the happiness of the scene. In pursuance 
of this thought, I kissed my uncle and prospec- 
tive aunt, and congratulated them, and yielded 


lOO 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


to the temptation to execute with gusto a wed- 
ding march upon the piano. 

My aunt was less demonstrative, but she 
went through with fitting ceremonies satisfac- 
tory to her favorite brother. Major and Mrs. 
Winston’s congratulations were gracefully ex- 
pressed; and into theirs Miss Winston and 
Eddie injected a good deal of drollery, which 
produced peals of laughter much enjoyed by 
the betrothed couple, as well as by other mem- 
bers of the party, including Miss Buckingham. 

On the announcement of supper the formali- 
ties of the preceding meal were not observed, 
and all went into the dining-room in free and 
easy style except my uncle and his affianced. 
They, in common parlance, ‘brought up the 
rear,” appropriated seats assigned by the hos- 
tess, and participated in the convivialities of 
the occasion. 

Besides coffee, the characteristic beverage of 
the South, champagne played conspicuous part 
in toast drinking, and it was not withheld from 
the younger members of the little party. I had 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


lOI 


never known a time when Madeira and port 
wines were not used, as thought necessary, in 
my own home; but they had no temptation for 
me. Now I discovered that I could not tamper 
with champagne without becoming too fond 
of it. On this occasion I drank a full glass, and 
then, notwithstanding the surprised, anxious 
look with which my aunt regarded me when I 
accepted the proffered second glass, I also 
quaffed it to the bottom. In a few moments 
the room was revolving with electric speed, and 
my friends and loved ones had evoluted into 
jabbering monkeys, and I the most ridiculous 
transformation of them all. I sat in stolid 
silence, gazing out of watery eyes at first one 
revolving object and then another. Con- 
sciousness never forsook me; and the painful 
realization of inebriety was so great as to cause 
me to cry aloud, and to plead truthfully a 
severe headache as a pretext for retiring. Good 
Mrs. Winston lovingly took my hand and led 
me, over reeling furniture, that threatened at 
every step to crush the life out of me, to the 


102 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


beautiful chamber assigned my aunt and my- 
self, and assisted in preparing me to “lie down 
a little while.’' My mortification soon found 
relief in sleep, which knew no waking until the 
sun was high in the heavens neixt day. 

I bore with equanimity my aunt’s good-na- 
tured reference to the episode; but when I 
learned of my uncle’s deep regret I was 
ashamed, and cried piteously. In vain did Miss 
Winston and her amiable young brother as- 
sure me that they took the same quantity with- 
out experiencing the same effect; and that it 
must have been because I was better than they, 
and had not become so used to it, that it 
affected me so much. I was dreadfully humili- 
ated, and shrank from my uncle’s presence as 
from one whom I had irreparably injured. 
Even at this remote date, after fully accepting 
the thoughtless act, committed more in igno- 
rance than in guilt, as one of the providences 
of my Heavenly Father, I cannot think of my 
uncle’s mortification without regret that I 
should have occasioned it. I felt then, and I 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


103 


feel now, that giving a young girl wine is not 
the proper thing to do. I resolved never again 
to touch, taste, or handle champagne, — which 
has lured to ruin many of the noblest men ever 
created, — or any other intoxicant, as to that 
matter; and the Author of Truth knows how 
faithfully that resolution has been kept. 

Another elegant dinner, served at the usual 
hour, was partaken of with gratifying relish, 
and we made our adieus to the lovely family 
that had so hospitably entertained us. It was 
very cold for the latitude ; but foot-stoves were 
placed in both vehicles, and an additional buf- 
falo robe in ours, and we kept entirely com- 
fortable through the long, tedious ride. The 
good portion of the road was quickly traveled, 
and the causeway approached. Our experience 
of the day before was repeated, only with addi- 
tional difficulties. A crust of ice over the un- 
even surface proved very trying to the horses’ 
feet, and the slippery puncheons had to be gone 
over with the greatest care. Time and pa- 
tience, however, were rewarded by our safe 


104 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


arrival at Rose Circle. We enjoyed its quiet 
and repose, after the incessant round of games 
and music and conversation crowded into the 
small space of time at the Winston mansion. 


CHAPTER VIII 


Though evidently pleased, my uncle was 
thoughtful and preoccupied by coming events. 
Having seen the overseer, and given him in- 
structions regarding plantation affairs for the 
ensuing week, he came to our room and spent 
several hours in loving conversation with us. 
''To-morrow morning,’' he said, "I shall leave 
for Memphis, and will be gone six or eight 
days. The overseer and the negroes are at 
your service. Want for nothing.” 

As a large wagon was to go, he ordered 
ample provisions for several days for himself, 
his coachman, his body-servant, outrider, and 
wagon-driver. Esther was particularly amiable 
and obliging, and prepared the food for the 
travelers with care and fidelity to all outward 
appearances; but an interested eye perceived 
that six fine hams, instead of three as ordered, 
were taken from the smoke-house; and a half 
dozen fat hens dressed, instead of the four that 


io6 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


were to go into the travelers’ chest, and a 
double quantity of everything — ^bread, tea- 
cakes, wafers, biscuits, pickles, jelly, sugar, and 
ground coffee. She had for some time con- 
templated giving a Christmas party, and had 
she asked her master to do so he would have 
provided generously for it ; but, with her, 
stolen things possessed a better flavor than if 
given. 

She was very demure and silent until “Mar- 
ster” was beyond hearing distance, en route to 
Memphis, and then a cannon explosion could 
scarcely have produced greater confusion as 
she relieved herself of the pent-up dissatisfac- 
tion which had been accumulating ever since 
my uncle had intimated his admiration for Miss 
Williamson. The thought of there being a 
lady in the “big-house” who might restrict her 
acquisitiveness, made her miserable, and she 
thus expressed herself : 

“I, yas I, Queen Easter, ez dey calls me, I 
done seed into it, so I has. Dey carn’t fool dis 
nigger, so dey carn’t. Marster is a fixin’ to 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


107 


brung dat Boston gal ’ere ter lord et ober us 
niggers. He, he, he ! Bress der Lord, I carn’t 
he’p larfin’. He, he, he! A Boston gal I 
thunk yer say. W’at do her know ’bout nig- 
gers? I ’boun’ her’s po’ w’ite trash dat neb- 
ber had anybody ter wait on ’er. Ting-er-ling, 
ting-er-ling, ting-er-ling I go er leetle old bell, 
an’ I goes ter her, an’ I say, ‘Ken I sarve yo’, 
mistusP’ an’ her say, ‘Yas, Miss Easter, I 
should lak er glass er watter, please marm.’ 
He, he, he! I carn’t he’p larfin’, so I carn’t. 
Her thunk her’ll have er mighty nice time er 
surcumnavergatin’ ’’roun’ dis big plantation, 
seein’ de cotton grow, an’ er thunkin’ how rich 
her be; but somebody else ’ll have somethin’ 
ter say ’bout dat, sho’ dey will. He, he, he ! It 
make me larf ter thunk erbout it, sho’ it do. 
Yas, Miss Easter ’ll have somethin’ ter say her 
won’t lak ter hyar; so her will, sartin an’ sho’.” 

To Esther’s soliloquy there had been an 
amused listener, and at this particular juncture 
Alf saw proper to reveal himself in an exasper- 
ating manner. With stealthy step he ap- 


io8 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


proached her, and jerking the turban off her 
head, he screamed, as if seeking to arouse the 
dead : 

‘‘Ha, oh! Yo’ er eatin’ crow, is yer?” 

“Lord a’mighty bress mer soul! I don’t 
know w’at I’se er gwine ter do wid dat narsty 
good-fer-nuttin’ nigger boy. I’m er gre’t min’ 
ter tek dis lighter’d knot an’ beat ’is brains 
outen ’is head — sho’ I is.” 

“Yer is, is yer? Yer’ll have ter ketch ther 
rabbit ’fore yer skins it. Heah?” 

“Yo’ outdashus yaller-faced nigger, I thunk 
in mer soul yer’ll run me ravin’ distracted, 
stan’in’ dar tawkin’ lak dat ter me. Queen 
Easter !” 

“Yo’ thinks yer hyar er leetle bell er goin’ 
ting-er-ling, ting-er-ling, er callin’ Miss Easter, 
does yer?” 

“Yo’ bin er hevesdrappin’, yer narsty nigger ? 
Well, de bressed Lord say, he does in de good 
book, ther hevesdrapper shall hyar no good uv 
’isse’f, an’ I’m willin’ ter leabe it in ’is han’, 
so I is, bress de Lord ! But ef yer thunk, sah, 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


109 


I er gwine ter wait erpon dat red-headed 
Yankee gal, yer is jes’ simplified mistakened — 
so yer is, sho’ an’ sartin.” 

“I won’t tawk ter yer any mo’. Yo’ is ther 
wickedest ’oman I ever did saw in all my born 
days, sho’.” 

“Yo’ go ’way f’um ’ere, yer good-fer-nuttin’ 
yaller-faced nigger yo’!” was the malicious 
reply. 

Alf’s finale to the dialogue, expressed in 
words plainly stating that Esther had reached 
such a degree of wickedness that he could not 
afford to talk to her any longer, met my appro- 
bation, and yet I egged him on to exasperate 
her still more. Calling him to my window I 
told him to tell Esther she was too great a 
woman to be called Queen “Easter,” and 
that hereafter he would call her Queen Anthra- 
cite. He had been in Memphis with his mas- 
ter enough to know what anthracite is, and his 
ready perception took in the analogy, so far 
as color is concerned, at least, and he was 


no 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


pleased with the application. Approaching 
timidly, he said to Esther : 

‘‘Yo’ mout not b’liebe it, but Pse er good 
friend uv yo’, an’ I’se bin er thinkin’ fer some 
time I’d ax yer ter let me change yer name 
ter Queen Anthracite.” 

‘^Queen w’at?” 

‘‘Anthracite.” 

“W’at dat?” 

“Somethin’ purty — lak yer heart.” 

“All right,” with pleased expression. 

And for a while Alf called Esther Queen 
Anthracite, and might have continued doing 
so but for a happening hereafter to be related. 

It will naturally be inferred from the fore- 
going soliloquy and the ensuing dialogue 
that this “Afro-American” woman, with the 
malignity of Satan, was even now planning 
the destruction of her master’s happiness, and 
the ruin of the young girl whom he had chosen 
to share with him the lights and shadows of 
connubial life. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


III 


The inclement weather put a stop to the 
daily walks of my aunt and myself; but en- 
dowed by nature with a restless spirit, never 
yet subordinated to conventionalities or envi- 
ronments, I could not brook confinement. A 
boy my pilot, and Hannah my maid, I galloped 
over the pretty home paths traversing my 
uncle’s plantation. Herds of sheep and droves 
of cattle, razor-back hogs and fine Berkshires 
roamed with conscious independence in the 
wooded fields, and added to the interest of my 
equestrian adventures. I often called a halt 
that I might the more thoroughly inspect 
them, and gratify my peculiar habit of count- 
ing everything in which I was interested. I 
was thus engaged, when startled by Hannah’s 
inquiry, 

‘'Miss Mary, wouldn’t yo’ lak ter go ter 
meetin’ next Sunday, ef yer please, marm ?” 

“Yes; where?” 

“Over to Smyrna, ’bout six or seben miles 
f’um ’ere — er f’um de ‘big-house.’ ” 

“How would I go? My uncle has the ba- 


II2 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


rouche, and we have no other conveyance, you 
know.” 

‘‘Couldn’t yer ride de horse yo’s on now? 
Yo’ looks mighty purty on ’im; an’ I could 
ride de one I is on now, jes’ a li’l’ ways behine 
yo’; an’ Ben, ’im could pilot us jes’ es ’im is er 
doin’ now.” 

“All right; I will go.” 

I do not know which one of us was the more 
anxious for the coming Sunday. A diversity of 
resources, however, enabled me to pass the 
time very pleasantly until nine o’clock Sunday 
morning. From my window I saw that the 
pretty horse selected for me to ride to “meet- 
in’ ” v/as saddled and hitched to the rack, and 
that the other two horses were ready also. 
Dressed in a green cashmere frock, with green 
trimmings of a lighter shade, I donned a broad- 
brim leghorn hat, trimmed in rose-tinted rib- 
bon, and a wreath of half-blown moss-rosebuds 
around the crown, and was ready to mount my 
horse when he was led beside the block. The 
quick eye of Hannah perceived that my hands 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


113 

were bare, and she asked if I was going to 
church bare-handed. I answered by showing 
her my dogskin riding-gloves, and also a pair 
of kid gloves with wrist adornment of fur. 

I tried the varied gaits of my steed, with 
the object of adopting that which showed me 
off to greatest advantage, and I think Hannah 
did the same; and when I passed the portal 
and cantered off at rapid rate, she brought up 
the rear in a brisk trot. 

‘Where is Ben?’' I inquired. 

“Yonder him is,” she said, pointing to an 
object so far in advance that I could scarcely 
distinguish his form. He understood his duty 
and was performing it. 

I found Hannah quite knowing in regard to 
the country, its inhabitants and resources, and 
I learned from her much of interest. Its wild 
and varied beauty in winter apparel was quite 
enchanting; and I resolved to see more of it, 
and gather hickory nuts and pecans to carry 
home to Georgia. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


114 

In the distance, on a scarcely perceptible 
knoll, I saw an humble frame building with 
glass windows and a brick chimney, which 
Hannah told me was the '^meetin’ house.’’ Be- 
fore it was a group of men, some of whom 
were handsome and well dressed. I saw Ben 
dismount and hitch his horse to a rack, and 
then, with his hat in his Hand, approach the 
group and pause as if awaiting encouragement. 
This being extended, he advanced nearer and 
in distinct tones said, ‘‘Gentlemen, Marster’s 
niece is yonder,” pointing to me. “Won’t one 
uv yo’ he’p her off de horse, an’ walk wid her 
inter de meetin’ house?” I was not altogether 
prepared for this part of the programme, but 
accepted it as a novel episode in plantation life, 
and received introductions to many of my 
uncle’s friends and constituents. 

Like most country churches in those days, 
the seats in the corners nearest the pulpit faced 
its sides, instead of its front, thus enabling the 
occupants of these seats to see and be seen by 
the whole congregation. These were called 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


115 

‘^amen corners/' because presumably occupied 
by the oldest and best members, from whose 
lips during the services there often issued fer- 
vent ‘‘amens” and ‘‘hallelujahs." Some of 
these ejaculations may have been mechanical 
or perfunctory; but for the most part they 
were the genuine utterances of assent to the 
preached word, or of praise to the Lord of 
Life and Salvation. 

Th® precentor usually sat on the left, near 
the pulpit, and often led a song-service of old 
familiar hymns prior to the regular church 
service. How well I remember the soul-stir- 
ring strains of “Am I a Soldier of the Cross ?" 
“How Firm a Foundation," “Amazing Grace," 
and “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing." 
They were sung on this occasion by the entire 
congregation, and by none more tunefully and 
earnestly than by the colored worshippers who 
occupied seats assigned them in the rear. 

Oh, the power of congregational singing! 
And, alas, its dearth in many churches ! The 
modern quartette choir, while it has its uses 


ii6 THE TRANSPLANTED 

(especially when multiplied by four, and led 
by a pious precentor, or a consecrated organ- 
ist), can never take the place of congrega- 
tional singing. There is no grand volume of 
tone, no sacred majesty, no real church service 
of song without it. ‘Xet all the people sing. 
Let everything that hath breath praise the 
Lord.’’ And, to this end, let parents and 
teachers see that the children at home and in 
the Sabbath-school are taught the grand old 
hymns that have stood the test of time. 

I was pleased with everything I saw in this 
humble sanctuary in the forest. I enjoyed the 
earnest gospel sermon by the circuit rider, and 
felt that it was good to be there. What civili- 
zation owes to the Methodist itinerant preacher 
will never be computed. There was heroism, 
never surpassed, in those men who braved the 
perils and hardships of pioneer days, and 
risked their lives amid the swamps of Missis- 
sippi and Louisiana and South Georgia. They 
were indeed soldiers of the Cross, and hun- 
dreds of them died upon the battlefield of the 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


117 

church militant. ‘‘They rest from their labors 
and their works do follow them.” 

The “little girl from Georgia” received 
marked attention from these rural people, and 
many invitations to “break bread” with them 
were extended to her; but she thought of her 
aunt in her loneliness, and preferred to dine 
with her at Rose Circle, and declined them all. 
She also declined with very sincere respect all 
offers by the young gentlemen to see her home. 
This course evidently disappointed my sable 
attendants, especially Ben, who would have 
been pleased to see every young gentleman in 
the congregation paying homage to “Marster’s 
niece” in recognition of his unique manage- 
ment of the case. 

The remainder of the day was spent at Rose 
Circle, and employed in searching the Scrip- 
tures and instructing the “big-house” girls; 
and Esther, who was present, and looked as 
innocent as if never guilty of a sin in her life, 
was ready to respond “amen” to every word I 
read. 


CHAPTER IX 


The night was very lonely and far spent 
when I sought the repose of my bed. A 
vague uneasiness, accounted for only on physio- 
logical principles, disturbed my rest and pre- 
vented sleep. As day was dawning I heard 
footsteps upon the front piazza, and a loud 
knock upon the door. Quickly our names were 
called — first my aunt’s and then my own. 

‘‘What can the matter be ?” we asked simul- 
taneously. 

“Jim’s done killed dat Hutcherson nigger 
w’at ’suited ’im C’rismus day. Him’s mos’ 
cut ’is heart out’n ’im.” 

This was terrible news to us, and at first 
we could make no reply. At length we asked 
if the overseer had been notified. 

“Yes’m ; him went ober dar, an’ sont fer de 
curiner.” 

“Where did the killing take place?” 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


119 

“Jim, he went over ter Marster Hutcherson's 
place, lak as ef 'im wus er gwine ter er quiltin’ 
de gals wus er gwine ter have, an’ ’im tuck 
er razzer wid ’im, an’ he watch er chance, an’ 
he slip up on ’im, an’ he mos’ cut ’is heart outen 
’im.” 

“That was deliberate and wilful murder. 
Has he been arrested?” 

“No’m, he tuck ter de swamp, an’ it’ll be er 
smart man dat’ll git ’im outen dar erlive, 
sho’ it will. An’ den dar’ll come erlong er 
undergroun’ railroad, an’ it’ll take ’im up an’ 
it’ll kerry ’im ter Boston, an’ set ’im down dar 
safe an’ soun’. It may er come er ready for 
all us knows.” 

“What about his mother?” 

“Her jes’ er takin’ on. Yo’ might er hearn 
her plum ter de ‘big-house,’ ef yo’d er bin 
lis’nin’.” 

I ordered horses, and Hannah and I were 
soon at the quarters. Phyllis was very much 
excited about her poor boy. She seemed not 
to realize the enormity of his crime, but dwelt 


120 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


especially upon the insult which occasioned it 
as extenuation. She was heard to say more 
than once that she was ‘‘glad Jim killed dat 
uppity nigger.” 

At times her screams were deafening, and 
her emotion so great as to threaten convul- 
sions; and yet, at will, she could implore the 
underground railroad to come along and take 
her poor boy to “de Norf,” so he could be “wid 
'is Marster Lloyd, an' 'is Marster Garrison.'' 

In her state of mind I knew not what to 
say that would afford her any consolation. By 
her oft-repeated approval of her son's acts I 
knew her to be as wicked as he ; and I thought 
it would be better for her to receive spiritual 
guidance from Aunt Cely,and others who knew 
her better than I did. A sinister-looking being 
with a clerical cut of the eye, or rather of the 
coat, arrived before I left, and began to tell 
her why God had thus afflicted her, and what 
she must do to appease His wrath and obtain 
mercy and consolation. I never knew how he 
succeeded. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


I2I 


Utter failure in my mission of condolence 
and sympathy made my return to Rose Circle 
very sad. I was certain that I had left undone 
something that I should have done, had I been 
braver in the cause of Him who ‘‘went about 
doing good.’’ I had not yet acquired the mis- 
sionary tact which in many cases since has 
enabled me to reach the heart of heathen and 
apply the balm of Gilead. 

The entire day was overshadowed by gloom. 
The sunlight seemed a mockery. A great 
crime had been committed by one of my uncle’s 
slaves and the perpetrator of the crime was a 
fugitive from justice. What though he might 
reach “de Norf,” the mecca of Southern negro 
outlaws and murderers, and escape the punish- 
ment of a violated law, he would be hounded 
by kidnappers, and, if caught, be brought by 
way of river steamers to New Orleans and 
sold into bondage again. 

The overseer was anxious to dispatch a 
courier for my uncle; but we persuaded him 
not to do so, and told him he could manage the 


122 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


case as well. The Memphis Appeal, ever on 
the alert for news, and abreast with the times, 
published a full account of the affair, under 
sensational headlines and identifying names. 
My uncle read the article as he sat at the hotel 
table awaiting his breakfast. A very light 
meal, merely a cup of coffee, was all he could 
swallow, and his men were quickly served in 
compliance with his orders. 

The weather and all things else being favor- 
able, he had completed his purchases and was 
really ready to start home, but had concluded 
to give himself and his men a day for recrea- 
tion and sightseeing. The wagon, already well 
laden, was under guard at one of the wagon- 
yards of the city ; and when the barouche was 
driven to the entrance of the hotel it was pre- 
ceded by an elegant phaeton, gold mounted, 
and upholstered in blue satin. A new valise, 
hat-box, and linen-case were carefully placed 
in it, and my uncle disposed of himself in it 
also, the outrider of the party acting as coach- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


123 


man for the barouche, which had received 
many bundles and packages. 

On his arrival at Rose Circle my uncle found 
all quiet and serene, but every face bespoke 
calamity such as had never before befallen it. 
He inquired feelingly about Jim, and, although 
he had committed a great crime, it was evi- 
dent that my uncle’s sympathy was with him. 
It is possible that he hoped the unhappy crea- 
ture would not be apprehended — ^that he even 
hoped with Jim’s mother, ‘‘dat de bressed w’ite 
arms of Missus Harr’ette Beacham Snow” 
would reach out from some mysterious place 
of concealment and clasp her boy to her capa- 
cious bosom; or that the “underground rail- 
road,” constructed by jealous, dishonest fanati- 
cism, would convey him to a place of safety. 
Be that as it may, Jim was never heard of at 
Rose Circle. In vain did the Governor of Mis- 
sissippi offer a reward for his arrest, and in 
vain did my uncle supplement that offer by 
one of larger amount. In performance of duty, 
no time had been lost to visit his neighbor and 


124 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


friend, Mr. Hutchinson, and to indemnify him 
for the financial value of the boy murdered by 
Jim; and then my uncle tried to dismiss the 
unfortunate affair from his mind and heart. 

The early morning stage brought to the 
cross-roads architects and carpenters from 
Memphis, and my uncle’s wagons brought lum- 
ber from a neighboring mill, and the work of 
remodeling the house began. Amid the con- 
fusion and noise incident to the work, Major 
and Mrs. Winston called. They had an object 
in view and regretted that it should have been 
unthought of so long. They urged my aunt 
and me to become their guests until the work 
on the house was thoroughly completed. 
Pleasant as this arrangement would have been, 
we were too unselfish to accept it. 

Besides, we had made a discovery during 
our sojourn at Rose Circle which my uncle 
had failed to make in the long period of his 
housekeeping experience; that is, that Esther 
was an expert thief, and that she was now 
determined, more than ever, on carrying out 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


125 


her propensities for unlawful acquisition. We 
therefore thought it our duty to remain in the 
house for the purpose of protecting its con- 
tents, and saw that my uncle was gratified by 
our decision. 

Time and tide wait not upon the movements 
of man, and the Christmas and New Year’s 
holidays had scarcely passed before the date 
for the return of the legislators to their duties 
at the capital. By special invitation my uncle 
was to prolong the time en route to four days, 
by spending the first night at Major Win- 
ston’s, and together they were to journey from 
there. A wise arrangement, for much of the 
way led through dense forest and swamp, and 
over rough causeways, and it required a brave 
man to make the journey alone, even though 
attended by a bodyguard who, like himself, 
was armed cap-a-pie. 

The two lawmakers reached the capital in 
time for the first roll-call. The earnest labors 
of my uncle left no doubt of his loyalty to his 
constituents and to his State; nor did any 


126 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


outward appearance betray the momentous 
event engaging his attention, and to be con- 
summated on the ensuing Washington’s Birth- 
day. The session was to be a long one, 
and his trip to Rose Circle was to be made 
in a given length of time by a special leave of 
absence. To deserve this favor, no one ever 
worked with greater earnestness or with more 
honorable purpose. 

In the mean time, work upon the house was 
progressing satisfactorily. The old appear- 
ance was passing away and the new assuming 
attractive form. The pretty young lady at the 
Winston mansion, under the guidance of a 
first-class dressmaker, was completing a trous- 
seau that would have been recognized as 
comme il faiit on Fifth Avenue. Good Mrs. 
Winston had already commenced cake-baking, 
as attested by several enormous fruit-cakes 
artistically iced. Jellies and sweetmeats of 
every flavor were added to an already well- 
filled store, and poultry of sundry varieties 
were in process of fattening. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


127 


Nor were the inmates of Rose Circle less 
busy — there were no laggards there. The 
negro girls worked with a will, often doing 
the same thing over and over. Especially was 
this the case in regard to polishing furniture, 
woodwork, etc. They had a preparation of 
their own, which they guarded sedulously, the 
formula of which they gave to me as an act 
of special favor. ^‘Dis prep’ration is made 
uv sweet ile an’ tuppentime, eek’l parts. An’ 
now. Miss Mary, I’se er gwine ter tell yer 
somethin’, an’ don’t yer forgit it. I don’t tell 
ev’ybody — dat gal yonder don’t know it. De 
mos’ partikler thin’ yer mus’ put in dis prep’ra- 
tion is helbow grease, put in dis way.” And 
by vigorous rubbing of the door- facing she 
gave me practical illustration of the applica- 
tion of elbow grease and its renewing effect. 

When this performance was executed I 
thanked Hannah and Amy, for one did noth- 
ing«.without the consent of the other, for the 
valuable formula. I then said to them, 


128 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


have something to say, and want your 
attention.” 

^‘Yes’m, say it,” responded both girls as if 
in one voice. 

‘‘You girls are too smart to murder the 
king’s English as you do,” I said, by way of 
introduction. 

“Miss Mary, w’at dat?” 

“It is the language which I am speaking. I 
know you have listened to intelligent persons 
converse enough to have caught their style of 
expression, and their pronunciation of words, 
and you should know better than to say ‘dis’ 
for ‘this,’ and ‘dat’ for ‘that.’ Besides, you do 
not always do so. I have heard you speak quite 
properly, and have heard you read correctly 
in advanced primers, and I know you did not 
find such words in them. Did you ?” 

“No’m.” 

“Then why do you use them ?” 

“Jes’ ’cause we is niggers. Yo’ carn’t make 
w’ite fokes outen niggers, all yo’ can do — don’t 
yo’ know it?” 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


129 


‘T have thought for several days I would 
tell you girls what my uncle said to me a few 
days before he left home,” I returned, without 
seeming to notice the accuracy of Hannah’s 
reply. 

Without impertinence in tone or manner, 
Hannah and Amy said simultaneously, “Well, 
tell it.” 

“He said he had noticed that I was very 
kind to you, and that you were fond of me.” 

“I is sho’,” and “I is sho’,” were the re- 
sponses. “Yo’ de fust w’ite gal us ever tawked 
ter, an’ ef dey’s all lak yo’ is, us t’inks mighty 
well uv ’em.” 

“I will finish telling you what my uncle 
said.” 

“Well, ’m, jes’ go it.” 

“ T would like to give these girls to you,’ 
he said. 'Will you accept them', and take them 
home with you ?’ ” 

“Whoopee!” exclaimed Hannah in voice 
heard all over the house. 


130 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


“I ain’t er gwiiie ter speak fer anybody but 
merse’f, an’ I wants yo’ ter hyar w’at I got 
ter say — I jes’ ain’t er gwine. I’ll lay in de 
swamp de balance uv mer days fus’, so I will,” 
said Amy. 

''So I will, too,” echoed Hannah. 

This first demonstration of Amy’s individu- 
ality pleased me much. Hitherto she had 
seemed so like a satellite, revolving around a 
superior orb, that I scarcely supposed she pos- 
sessed a thought not directed by Hannah. 

"You will not have that to do, as under no 
circumstances would I now take you,” I said. 

I thought then, and time has confirmed the 
impression, that these girls were disappointed. 
They evidently expected a contest over their 
unwillingness to go with me, and their final 
triumph by taking to the swamp and remain- 
ing until I left Mississippi; but no such noto- 
riety awaited them, and they were disappointed. 
Of this I was convinced by the inquiry, more 
than once propounded. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


131 

^‘Miss Mary, ef us wus ter go wid yer ter 
Georgy, would yer let us come back ter see our 
fokes out ’ere?’’ 

“Do not give yourselves any trouble over the 
thought of going to Georgia. I do not want 
you.” 

This and similar replies convinced them 
that the possession of negroes was not as de- 
sirable as they supposed it to be, even though 
the negroes might be capable of instruction 
in the arts of usefulness. I continued to act 
as I felt, very kindly toward these girls, and 
I taught them all my stitches in knit lace, and 
tape-trimming, and crocheting, and other 
fancy-work. They were apt scholars, and 
grateful for instruction. 

At length the house was ready for the dec- 
orators who had arrived from Memphis with 
an assortment of wallpaper, etc,, for the con- 
summation of the work. I was permitted to 
select colors for the bridal chamber, and chose 
silver and gold. For the parlor my aunt se- 
lected a delicate tint of pink and gold ; and for 


132 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


the dining-room, a refreshing shade of green 
and gold — ^the frieze an inspiring combination 
of flowers and fruits. The colors and tints 
of the other rooms we left to the practiced eye 
of the decorator. In due time carpets and fur- 
niture arrived. Beautiful old furniture, that 
would now command high prices, was sent 
to the negro quarters, and the new took its 
place — without any endearing association 
clustering around it. 

When all was completed its owner would not 
have known his home, it was so transformed 
into a new and elegant abode. 

The first of my uncle’s friends to visit Rose 
Circle after the completion of the work were 
the inmates of the Winston mansion, all ex- 
cept Miss Williamson. She had the good taste 
to excuse herself and remain at home. Mrs. 
Winston, Miss Winston, and Master Eddie 
were delighted with the improvement wrought 
by the architect and his corps of skilful work- 
men, whom they pleased much by their un- 
stinted and sincere words of commendation. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


133 


Nor was Miss Buckingham a silent admirer of 
the pretty home. I learned incidentally that 
this was not her first visit to Rose Circle. On 
other occasions she had accompanied Miss 
Winston there and had been numbered among 
my uncle’s esteemed friends. As if to assure 
me that my childish indulgence in champagne, 
on the occasion of our former meeting, was 
not remembered, or, if remembered, was re- 
garded only as an innocent episode in youthful 
character, she exhibited great pleasure in meet- 
ing me again. I loved her frank, genial man- 
ner. Personally, she. too was neither low nor 
tall in stature, nor stout nor slender in form, 
but a medium-sized woman; gentle, refined, 
and sweet-voiced, with brown eyes, gleaming 
with kindness for every living being. 

To me, however, the chief charm of her face 
was an undefinable melancholy, as if she had 
sought the world over and failed to find the 
object of her search, or, having found it, was 
disappointed in its attainment. I have never 


134 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


seen in picture, statue, nor on any other human 
face an expression so winning and magnetic, 
so resigned and heavenly. 


CHAPTER X 


Saturday night, about the 19th of February, 
my uncle arrived at Rose Circle. He was evi- 
dently much pleased with the appearance of 
everything, and ascribed to his sister and niece 
more than their share of honor for the trans- 
formation. Midnight came before we had 
exhausted the minutiae of occurrences in his 
absence, and we had not so much as alluded to 
the event for which so much preparation had 
been made. Apprehending possibly that we 
would do so, he deferred it by the assurance 
that he was tired and would rest the remainder 
of the night. 

The succeeding Sunday was a typical winter 
day in a semi-tropical climate. Cold and heat 
struggled for the mastery, the cold getting the 
ascendency. Heavy gusts of wind, and snow- 
flakes, reveled at intervals under dark, flying 
clouds, and increased the weird gloom and the 
necessity for a large hickory fire. The prac- 


136 THE TRANSPLANTED 


ticed eye and accurate judgment of my uncle, 
the weather prophet of the plantation, saw 
reason why the phaeton should not convey him 
to the Winston mansion, even after it had been 
brought out of the repository prepared for it ; 
and it was returned, to do no more service 
until it started on the journey to the capital, 
honored by the presence of a beautiful bride 
and loving bridegroom. 

While giving the change in the choice of 
vehicles his personal supervision, my uncle 
made a startling discovery. Evidence unmis- 
takable that an effort had been made to burn 
the phaeton and its repository met his sur- 
prised gaze. The would-be perpetrator of this 
terrible crime was none the less guilty because 
deterred from its consummation by fear of de- 
tection or personal loss, and all eyes save those 
of my uncle were turned upon Esther — mine 
with such searching gaze that she winced, and 
assumed an injured air and expression, as if 
great injustice had been done her; and every 
time she could do so, without being observed 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


137 


by others, she turned her eyes so nearly wrong 
side out that nothing but the whites of them 
were visible, and made faces at me too horrible 
for description. 

The equanimity of my uncle did not seem 
much disturbed by this event, and yet I de- 
tected a look of pained concern, when, before 
entering the barouche for his last trip to the 
Winston mansion until he should go to claim 
his bride, he kissed us, and wished “the affair 
was over.’^ 

It was decided that to go to church was not 
the proper thing to do immediately preceding 
the marriage, and a lay service was conducted 
by Major Winston. After its conclusion the 
family remembered that their Sabbath-school 
lessons had to be recited to one another, and, 
excusing themselves, they left the betrothed 
couple to renew their vows of love and fidelity, 
unheard save by “the cricket on the hearth.’' 
With her hands clasped in his, he spoke of the 
deep love he entertained for her, and the new 
happiness which that love had implanted in 


138 THE TRANSPLANTED 


his life; and the evidence she gave him of re- 
ciprocal sentiment must have been satisfactory. 
The dinner-bell brought them to a realization 
of the time consumed by the rehearsal of the 
old, old story of love, which possesses interest 
to the birds of the air, the denizens of the 
forest, and to high-hoping man made in the 
image of the God of Love. 

Dinner was dispatched in less time than 
usual on such happy occasions; for the cause- 
way had to be crossed, a perilous undertaking 
after dark. 

When my uncle took leave of his friends at 
the Winston mansion, and was descending the 
granite steps, he discovered that Major Win- 
ston’s carriage stood near his barouche. With- 
out other explanation, the Major said he 
wanted to spend one more night with his 
bachelor friend before he became a benedict. 
My uncle was much pleased, and he and the 
Major entered the carriage together. The con- 
versation between them during the long, rough 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


139 


drive to Rose Circle has never been repeated 
to mortal man. If a warning, it was unheeded. 

The next morning Major Winston insisted 
on taking my aunt and myself with him on his 
return home. The marriage was to take place 
Tuesday morning at eight o’clock, followed by 
breakfast. My uncle said that he could spend 
the night at Rose Circle, and get to Major 
Winston’s in time to act his part in the pro- 
gramme, and no persuasion could change his 
purpose. My aunt and I arrived at the man- 
sion early in the afternoon, and we were per- 
mitted to assist in the arrangements for the 
marriage. And we were not the only guests 
who arrived on Monday. Several honorables, 
colleagues in the Senate, came to witness the 
beautiful marriage ceremony to be performed 
by the Bishop of Mississippi. 

A short time before the appointed hour a 
phaeton, occupied by a solitary passenger, drove 
up to the carriage entrance of the mansion, and 
a gentleman, whose black hair was slightly 
tinged by the snows of forty-five winters, de- 


140 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


scended from it and ran up the steps with the 
agility of youth, never pausing until he had 
attained the seclusion of the chamber known as 
his by every member of the household. 

The phaeton was not the only vehicle that 
came from Rose Circle — a wagon for the 
trunks of the bride and other necessary bag- 
gage; and the barouche, from force of habit, 
was deemed a necessary adjunct, and it was 
now stored with luncheon baskets of appetiz- 
ing viands, and a basket of champagne, and 
Madeira, sufficient for the party en route to 
the capital. The spring-wagon was also in 
evidence, with its freight of human beings, 
Esther, Amy, Hannah, and Car’line, in their 
“Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes,’' “to see Mar- 
ster marr’ed ter der purty Norden lady.” 

At the appointed hour, accompanied by his 
best man, my uncle entered the parlor. Simul- 
taneously the bride entered, leaning upon the 
arm of Major Winston, and the beautiful, im- 
pressive marriage ceremony of the Episcopal 
Church, uniting the destinies of this couple 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


141 

brought together under peculiar circumstances 
and conditions, thus began : 

‘‘ ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered together 
here, in the sight of God, and in the face of 
this company, to join together this man and 
this woman in holy matrimony; which is an 
honorable estate instituted of God in the time 
of man's innocency, signifying unto us the 
mystical union that is betwixt Christ and His 
Church : which holy estate Christ adorned and 
beautified with His presence and first miracle 
that He wrought in Cana of Galilee, and is 
commended of Saint Paul to be honorable 
among all men; and, therefore, is not by any 
to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but 
reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and 
in the fear of God. In this holy estate these 
two persons present come now to be joined. 
If any man can show just cause why they may 
not lawfully be joined together, let him now 
speak, or else hereafter forever hold his 
peace.' " 


142 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


Speaking to my uncle and the fair girl who 
stood by him, the Bishop said, T require you 
and charge you, as ye will answer at the dread- 
ful day of judgment, when the secrets of all 
hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you 
know any impediment why ye may not be law- 
fully joined in matrimony, ye do now confess 
it. For be ye well assured that if any persons 
are joined together otherwise than as God’s 
word doth allow, their marriage is not law- 
ful.’ ” 

No impediment being acknowledged by 
either of these parties, the Bishop, addressing 
himself to my uncle, by his Christian name, 
said, “ ‘Wilt thou have this woman to be thy 
wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordi- 
nance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt 
thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep 
her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking 
all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as 
ye both shall live ?’ ” 

‘T will,” in clear and manly tone assured 
every one present that the promise was made 
not to be broken. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


143 


Turning to the bride, the Bishop likewise 
addressing her by name said, Wilt thou have 
this man to be thy wedded husband, to live to- 
gether after God’s ordinance in the holy estate 
of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve 
him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and 
in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee 
only unto him, so long as ye both shall live ?’ ” 

‘T will,” being the satisfactory response, the 
Bishop asked, “Who giveth this woman to be 
m^arried tO' this man?” Then they plighted 
their troth together (Major Winston giving 
away the bride) in these beautiful words: “I 
take thee, Corinne, to be my wedded wife, to 
have and to hold from this day forward, for 
better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sick- 
ness and in health, to love and to cherish, till 
death do us part, according to God’s holy ordi- 
nance; and thereto I plight my troth.” 

And in like manner the bride plighted her 
troth, and the man of God pronounced them 
husband and wife, in the name of the Triune 
God, and all present responded, “Amen.” 


144 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


The ceremony having been performed, all 
partook of a sumptuous breakfast, not surpass- 
ing, however, the feast of reason and flow of 
soul inspired by the environment and its 
occasion. 

All things being ready, the bride had only 
to don a beautiful cloak over her traveling suit 
of ashes-of-roses colored cloth. Her hat was 
soft white felt, its only trimming a band of 
white grosgrain ribbon, and a white tissue veil 
gracefully wound about it. She looked a queen 
as she was led by her husband to the phaeton 
whose elegant drapery harmonized with her 
own as if a part of it, and hastily they took 
their seats as if to get out of the shower of 
rice that followed them. 

Major Winston and his colleague. Senator 
B., from one of the northern districts of 
the State, occupied the Winston carriage; and 
two other honorable friends the one in which 
they had come. 

Mrs. Winston had taken charge of the 
Bishop, and seen him comfortably seated in 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


145 


his own traveling carriage, and when he joined 
the caravan all was ready for the journey. (I 
have the authority of Webster for the use of 
caravan in this connection ; for truly the neces- 
sity for traveling in a body never existed more 
urgently than in this robber-infested region in 
Murrell’s reign of terror.) 

“She is a daisy!” exclaimed Senator B., my 
uncle’s best man and chosen friend, as soon as 
they emerged from the mansion grounds. “I 
could not help wishing I had been the swain 
so fortunate as to pronounce vows of fidelity 
to such a perfect specimen of womanhood.” 
Without taking into consideration the dire 
effect of his words, Major Winston thus re- 
plied : 

“You may live to thank the Lord that you 
are not in his place. To me the whole affair 
seems a pitiable, melancholy farce. That a 
man of refined and gentle manner should find 
his affinity in an adventuress, however brillianr 
she may appear, is desecration of the sacred 
compact that now binds them together. In 


146 THE TRANSPLANTED 


my opinion she is mercenary, and is now look- 
ing forward to a complete surrender of man- 
hood and property to her control. Did you 
not observe the apathy apparent in every move- 
ment of hers in the drama just enacted? Not 
a scintilla of interest did she manifest in the 
ceremony in which she was so important an 
actor.” 

‘‘Yes, I noticed it, but without surprise. The 
disparity in age is too great to promise con- 
geniality ; and, like yourself, I suspect that she 
was prompted by mercenary motives,” answered 
Senator B. 

“Yet you caught yourself wishing you were 
the happy swain to whom she had plighted her 
troth.” 

“Circumstances alter cases. To me she 
might have uttered those vows with more feel- 
ing and show of interest, and with greater as- 
surance of fidelity,” was the somewhat ego- 
tistic reply of the young Senator. 

“Bravo, my young friend! I discover we 
are not so far apart in our opinion of the 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


147 


character under consideration as I at first sup- 
posed,” said the Major. 

‘‘No, and in conclusion, or as a finale to our 
conversation on this point, I venture a proph- 
ecy: wealth, as a means of advertising her 
beauty and accomplishments, she has attained, 
and she will use it for that purpose over the 
protest, if need be, of him she has publicly 
promised to love and honor,” remarked the 
astute young Senator. 

“The circumstances under which she met 
her husband,” said Major Winston, “are pecu- 
liar, and justify my apprehensions.” 

“What are they? I have not learned them.” 

“It seems,” replied Major Winston, “that 
my honorable colleague, not endowed by nature 
with proper enterprise in such matters, adver- 
tised for a lady correspondent with view to 
matrimony. The lady whom he has wedded 
answered the advertisement, and after a brief 
correspondence they exchanged miniatures and 
soon became engaged. He proposed going to 
her home in Massachusetts to marry her in the 


148 THE TRANSPLANTED 


presence and with the approval of her mother, 
her only surviving parent; but to this propo- 
sition she objected, urging as her reason that 
he was not sufficiently acquainted with her to 
know that he would be well enough pleased 
with her to make her his wife, and magnani- 
mously suggested that when the present term 
of the school which she was teaching expired, 
and she received her salary, she would use it 
to defray her expenses to Mississippi, and if 
he would interest himself in securing a class 
for her in his neighborhood, she would teach 
a scholastic year; thereby giving him opportu- 
nity to become acquainted with her, and, if 
she should prove a disappointment to him, she 
would release him from the obligation he 
seemed willing to incur. He had, he avowed, 
never known anything so magnanimous. His 
admiration was turned into adoration, and 
he lost no time in transmitting to her a check 
for five hundred dollars on the First National 
Bank of Boston. This generous act was sup- 
plemented by an appeal to Mrs. Winston and 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


149 


myself to receive her into our family as a gov- 
erness — this agreement to be merely nominal. 
Close friendship of years’ standing secured 
compliance with this request, and accounts for 
her having been an inmate of my household. I 
am reliably informed that during the time she 
has been at my residence he has lavished upon 
her a small fortune. The trousseau with which 
she is to dazzle the proud capital of Mississippi 
is solely his gift — an oblation upon the altar 
of infatuation.” 

‘‘Did his friends make no effort to dissuade 
him from such a course ?” 

“Impervious to influence, he repelled by in- 
difference every friendly suggestion.” 


CHAPTER XI 


A pretty cottage by the wayside, with taste- 
ful grounds surrounding it, offered attractions 
as a fit place to loiter and partake of the noon- 
day meal, and the privilege of doing so was 
solicited, and granted by the amiable young 
couple who resided there. When the baskets 
which contained the first day’s luncheon were 
emptied, and the contents arranged upon snow- 
white damask linen, spread upon a velvety 
lawn, a kingly epicure could have asked no 
more. Standing, the Bishop asked the blessing 
which has consecrated the food of the devout 
for eighteen hundred years. 

The bride was conducted to the head of ‘‘the 
spread,” and seated on a camp-stool before 
which had been placed a small folding table 
that had been surreptitiously put in the wagon, 
and so effectually concealed as to escape de- 
tection until called into use as an especial favor 
to the bride. She was assured by acclamation 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


151 

that she was the queen of the festive board, and 
that every individual present was her honored 
subject. For this pretty, time-honored compli- 
ment, she gracefully bowed and smiled, and 
begged her guests to proceed with their dinner. 
The Bishop, as her most honored guest, was 
seated at her right and Mrs. Winston opposite 
him. Major Winston saw that every one was 
served in royal style. My uncle’s beautiful care 
for his wife left nothing undone that would 
add to her pleasure, and every want was sup- 
plied before expressed. 

The thoughtful arrangement of the luncheon 
by my aunt at Rose Circle made its manage- 
ment an easy matter. The turkey and ham, 
artistically carved, filled separate dishes, each 
of which had been securely wrapped after the 
manner of the careful and tasteful house- 
keeper that she was. Homemade light bread, 
and beaten biscuits crisp and brittle, were much 
enjoyed. Little jars of jellies, pickles, and ap- 
petizing condiments gave zest to the meal; 
and an abundance of spoons, knives and forks, 


152 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


and doilies, greatly improved the usual picnic 
style. 

As if watching a favorable opportunity, one 
of the negro men appeared upon the scene of 
action with an immense pot of Java coffee, 
which he assured the guests was made specially 
for his pretty young ‘‘Mistus, an’ fer Marster 
Bishop,” but if enough was left after they 
were served, ‘‘then the other gent’ mens mus’ 
drink it all up, es it’s too good ter be th’owed 
erway.” Cake, from purest white to golden 
tint, furnished acceptable dessert. 

The head waiter evidently had something 
which he wished to show, and which hebelieved 
would “lay everything else in the shade.” His 
master, perceiving his anxiety about something, 
asked if he had anything else he would like to 
bring out. 

“Yes, sah!” was the emphatic reply. “But 
it mus’n’t be cut ter-day. It belongs ter mer 
purty Mistus yonder, an’ it mus’n’t be cut twell 
her gits ’mong der qualerty-fokes at der caper- 
tel uv Massusippy. I done hearn it say dat de 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


153 


whole uv Marse Andy Jackson’s town es er 
gwine ter turn out ter honor mer young Mis- 
tus; an’ I knows dis hyar cake’ll mek de Gub- 
ner’s mouf watter w’en he sot his eyes onter 
it.” 

Major Winston, knowing that the waiter’s 
loquacity was due to him in more ways than 
one, listened in amused embarrassment, and 
my uncle evidently enjoyed his wife’s aston- 
ishment at the negro’s '‘audacity,” as she was 
pleased to term his pleasantry. 

"You said you had something else. What 
is it?” queried Senator B. 

"I done tol’ yer et wus er cake w’at would 
mek de Gub’ner’s mouf watter, w’en him sot ’is 
eyes onter et.” 

"Let us see it; perhaps our mouths would 
feel the better for having been watered.” 

"Yo’s is done bin wattered, sho’ et is.” 

A hearty laugh in chorus, enjoyed by the 
Bishop, brought the waiter to realize that he 
had by innuendo implicated his master and 
guests in a rather questionable act, and no one 
present enjoyed the joke more than the bride. 


154 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


The incorrigible waiter had set his heart on 
one object, viz., that of displaying to the party 
the skill and taste of his master’s sister and 
niece in the art of making and ornamenting 
a bride’s cake, and nothing could divert him 
from his purpose. A large circular Indian 
basket, constructed of small cane strips of 
various colors, black, white, and red predomi- 
nating, was brought from the barouche, and 
its lid removed. A thick layer of cotton bat- 
ting, tissue paper, and soft white muslin was 
taken off, and a thing of beauty revealed — a 
cake almost as large as the basket containing 
it, elaborately decorated with leaves, grapes, 
and flowers, formed of an icing the making of 
which is among the lost arts. The admira- 
tion manifest upon every face was highly grati- 
fying to the waiter, and he gave expression to 
it by saying, “It is purty, sho’ !” 

The bridal party having finished the repast 
with champagne, and the ladies having repaired 
to the piazza of the cottage, it was in order 
that a box of Havanas should be brought out ; 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


155 


and while the gentlemen were enjoying their 
rich fragrance, the sable contingent did ample 
justice to the generous supply of eatables re- 
served for them. 

No accident or adventure marred the pleas- 
ure of the first day’s journey, and at night the 
party stopped at a wayside inn, fully prepared 
for them by previous engagement. The supper 
was good ; fried and ^‘smothered” chicken, 
broiled ham, and broiled shad, dressed with 
watercress, corn-meal batter-bread, delicious 
rolls, transparent honey, and butter that seemed 
to smell of clover blooms. Coffee of finest 
brand, and creamy milk, completed the menu. 

The breakfast was identically the same, with 
the addition of waffles and batter-cakes. The 
generous and impulsive host wanted to donate 
the night’s entertainment, in toto, to my uncle, 
as a bridal present, but he was not allowed to 
do so. 

The second day’s journey was a repetition 
of the first, but the night did not furnish alto- 
gether as good accommodation. But not a 


156 THE TRANSPLANTED 


member of the party was lacking in the good 
breeding which overlooked small inconve- 
niences, and “makes excuses when it might con- 
demn.” In the mean time, however, the party 
had sustained a great loss. At some one of 
the divergent roads the Bishop had been 
obliged to bid them adieu, amid the regrets of 
all, and with the hope to meet again. 

All things having proved auspicious, the 
party reached the capital on the third day, and 
“the Southern planter and his Northern bride” 
proceeded as quietly as possible to their hotel. 
A maid versed in all the intricacies of feminine 
attire and adornment had been engaged by my 
uncle before he left the city for his wedding 
trip, and she was now ready to enter into the 
service of the bride. 

Unauthorized by my uncle “the city papers” 
announced that the honorable representative 

from the district and his charming 

bride would be pleased to meet friends and 
acquaintances informally in the parlors of the 
Hotel Jackson on the 5th of 'March ensuing. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


157 


In the mean time, the bride complied with her 
husband’s desire that she should spend the in- 
tervening days in rest and repose. Her first 
appearance was at the hotel dinner-table the 
day succeeding their arrival. Clinging to her 
husband’s arm she looked the materialization 
of faith. 

The wealth of beautiful hair that adorned 
her well-shaped head fell in a graceful cluster 
of curls at the back, while in front the tiers 
of curls were kept in place by tortoise shell 
combs mounted in gold. The gown she wore 
on this informal occasion was a modest, unpre- 
tentious-looking, though elegant silk, warp of 
gold and woof of purple, with soft white lace 
at neck and wrists. A white-silk scarf thrown 
over her shoulders seemed the proper thing to 
heighten the modest simplicity of her attire, 
and give effect to the closely fitting corsage. 

As she entered the apartment, leaning upon 
her husband’s arm, all eyes were riveted upon 
her as with easy grace they wended their way 
to the farthest corner of the room. *‘She is a 


158 THE TRANSPLANTED 


daisy, a blooming daisy, by Jove!’’ exclaimed 
Senator B. with more earnestness than pru- 
dence. Accustomed as he had ever been to 
regard woman as too pure to meet the unhal- 
lowed gaze of man, my uncle was annoyed 
by the undisguised admiration bestowed upon 
his wife by Senator B. from the moment of his 
first introduction to her. 

The opportunity was now furnished him for 
discovering that a pretty bride may be a target 
for offensive flattery; and he was annoyed by 
a new sensation he could not define. It was not 
jealousy, nor a fear of being supplanted by 
another in the affections of his wife; but a 
nameless something which he preferred not to 
entertain. As the day for the informal recep- 
tion drew nigh, the newly married pair entered 
the parlor of the hotel, already quite full of 
the elite of the legislature and capital. Beauty 
of person and elegance of manner and costume 
harmonized with the tasteful arrangement of 
the rooms; and music from the dulcet strains 
of harp, guitar, and violin, to the accompani- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


159 


ment of piano and bass viol, added charm and 
exhilaration to the scene. 

After an hour of brilliant social intercourse, 
in which many congratulations were offered to 
the handsome pair, dancing was proposed. 
Every gentleman who had been favored with 
an introduction to the bride asked the honor 
of dancing with her. Her answer invariably 
led to the conclusion that she did not dance, 
and her husband was never known to take part 
in any terpsichorean pastime. 

At length Senator B., with the ease and 
grace of a man of the world, approached them, 
and, bowing low to the bride, grasped the hand 
of my uncle with a cordiality scarcely expected 
so soon after their recent separation, and, look- 
ing at the bride, asked her if he could be the 
first to be honored by dancing a set with the 
most beautiful woman whose presence graced 
the occasion. Without waiting for an affirma- 
tive look from her husband, she accepted the 
proffered arm and was led to the ballroom, 
where she danced a cotillion with Senator B. 


i6o 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


Set after set was danced, and he was still her 
partner. When waltzing was proposed, she 
yielded to his request and waltzed with him. 
Her husband looked on in pained embarrass- 
ment, and when her beauty and grace of man- 
ner elicited admiration he remained silent. 
With faith in his wife’s integrity, he hoped 
by loving suggestions to prevent the recurrence 
of such a scene. 

Though unnoticed by the revelers, eleven 
o’clock rang out clear and distinct, and as mid- 
night came, my uncle, with flushed face and 
scarcely concealed indignation, approached 
Senator B. and said to him, ‘T shall have to 
claim the privilege of conducting my wife to 
her chamber, for much-needed rest.” The old 
platitude, ‘Time has passed so pleasantly we 
did not realize it was so late,” was repeated 
by both almost as in one breath. 

As a child guilty of naughty conduct, or as 
one indifferent to opinion becomes reticent and 
imperturbable, the bride, with but little show 
of interest in anything, retired as soon as pos- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


i6i 


sible after reaching her apartment. It was very 
different with her husband. Without any tend- 
ency to jealousy, there was a something which 
dawned upon his mind that pained him exceed- 
ingly. A strange awakening to the folly of 
marrying under ‘Tomantic circumstances” 
tinged his cheeks, with not exactly shame, but 
something akin to it; and that his friend, and 
best man on the recent momentous occasion of 
his life, should be the one to betray his wife 
into ridiculous display of herself, was almost 
incredible. Thus occupied with unpleasant 
thoughts, he paced the corridor in front of their 
rooms until the gray streaks of dawn admon- 
ished him that if seen in that perturbed condi- 
tion he would do more to encourage gossip 
prejudicial to his wife than the circumstances 
justified. Entering the apartment the sight that 
met his gaze disarmed him and soothed him, 
and the tumultuous unhappy state of his mind 
vanished ''as mists before the rising sun.” 

Robed in soft white drapery his wife, inno- 
cence personified, lay sweetly sleeping. He 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


162 

studied every feature and saw no guile. He 
kissed her cheek and stroked her hair, and 
whispered words of love and fidelity. She 
opened and closed her cerulean eyes and be- 
trayed no responsive emotion, not even a smile 
in recognition of the delicate tenderness be- 
stowed upon her by him whom she had prom- 
ised to love and honor. Disappointed, he threw 
himself upon the couch, and sought in vain to 
drown his sorrow and chagrin in the lethe of 
sleep. Pity for the fair young being whom he 
had promised to love and protect took the 
place, however, of censure; and he condoned 
the infatuation which had led her to expose 
herself to unpleasant criticism. As for Sena- 
tor B., my uncle was at a loss to determine 
what course to pursue toward him. Their 
official relations had always been most pleas- 
ant, and had culminated in friendship which he 
would have been loyal to at peril of his life. 
He felt that his confidence had been betrayed, 
and that he had been wounded at the most 
vulnerable point. He was mortified exceed- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 163 


ingly and stung to the core. Yet he made up 
his mind that no word, or look, or act of his 
should betray his state of feeling. 


CHAPTER XII 


What a grand old benefactor the sun is! 
How much of darkness he dispels in the moral 
as well as in the material world. Morning, 
illuminated by his bright rays, put to blush the 
unpleasant forebodings that had found lodg- 
ment the night before in the bridegroom’s 
heart, and had he betrayed lack of perfect con- 
fidence in his wife he would now have thought 
it no humiliation to kneel at her feet and ask 
pardon for the wrong he had done her. When 
she appeared in morning toilet of soft blue 
nun’s veiling he thought he had never seen her 
so beautiful or so becomingly attired. In exuber- 
ance of admiration he sprang to her side, and 
as he offered his arm to conduct her to break- 
fast he said in loving, playful tones, 

“‘I am glad I married you, 

My pretty maid.’ ” 

Thinking he had made a rather neat and flat- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


165 

tering speech, if not original, he was disap- 
pointed at receiving no appreciative response 
either by word or look, and memory recalled 
more than one previous occasion when senti- 
ment, warm and heartfelt, had been frozen by 
an iceberg. 

Senator B. had preceded my uncle and his 
wife, and, evidently with design, had appro- 
priated a seat opposite those reserved by the 
head waiter for the bride and groom. Perceiv- 
ing the change from his accustomed seat, and 
divining the cause, my uncle proceeded to a 
most inviting little table, in another part of the 
room, which seemed designed especially for 
pretty brides. The first course of the meal was 
eaten in comparative silence. In vain did my 
uncle endeavor to engage his wife in conversa- 
tion. He even grew facetious; but his little 
quips and jests failed to amuse her. 

In the midst of the repast the tall and grace- 
ful figure of Senator B. approached them, and 
bowing to the bride as if she was merely a 
secondary consideration, he bade her ‘‘good 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


1 66 

morning”; then pointing to an item in one of 
the daily newspapers of the city, which he held 
in his left hand, asked that an opinion be given 
him later, by my uncle, and passed out of the 
hall. Flush and thrill were not unnoticed, nor 
were they lacking in repetition and in ultimate 
consequences. 

‘‘We are going to church this morning, and 
as the days are short, by the time your maid 
thinks your make-up will honor us, and her 
artistic skill, it will be time to start,” said my 
uncle to his wife as they left the breakfast 
table the following Sabbath morning. Two 
hours later, bride never appeared prettier than 
did that of the Mississippi planter as she 
emerged from her dressing-room and entered 
the private parlor where her husband awaited 
her. He too had evidently bestowed time and 
taste upon his toilet, and as they walked down 
the hall that led to the stairway, and descended 
the steps, what wonder that people craned their 
necks to get a passing glimpse of the hand- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 167 


some couple. Coachman and maid were never 
prouder of “Marster and Mistus’' ; but the cli- 
max was attained when the church was 
reached, and the groom assisted his wife to 
descend tO' the pavement. To him she was 
grandly beautiful, and, notwithstanding the 
shock to which she had so recently subjected 
him, he still hoped she would be to him a joy 
forever. As they entered the portal of the 
church the usher caught the inspiration of her 
beauty, and as a tribute to it conducted them to 
a seat near the chancel. 

Arrayed in an elegant blue-satin gown, en 
traine, with close-fitting corsage and puffed 
sleeves; a necklace of pearls that peeped through 
the filmy lisse about her throat; an exquisite 
shawl of white Brussels lace; a lovely white 
hat, whose only decoration was a wreath of 
orange blossoms, fastened by a bow of white 
satin ribbon ; in her hand a prayer-book, bound 
in blue and gold; and a handkerchief which 
would have satisfied a princess — ^what more 
could be asked as to outward adornment ? 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


1 68 

Senator B. was of the admiring number who 
filled the vestibule when my uncle and his wife 
entered, and as soon as they were seated he re- 
paired to his own pew and began unremitting 
watch over them. Not a look or a movement 
escaped him. When the benediction was pro- 
nounced, with courtly grace he approached 
them, and, bowing, extended his hand, inquir- 
ing as to their health. The bride was very de- 
mure, but a close observer could perceive that 
she was flattered by the pretty nothings spoken 
by her husband’s colleague. 

Interpreting his motive in approaching 
them, my uncle invited him to take a seat in 
the phaeton with him and his wife. The alac- 
rity with which this invitation was accepted 
greatly disconcerted the coachman, who 
thought there was more respectability in rid- 
ing in one’s own carriage than in that of a 
friend. Though short the drive, yet, in its 
brief duration, by well-studied looks and words 
and tones he had impressed the bride with the 
fatal belief that she had made more admirers, 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


169 


himself included, than any one who had ever 
visited Jackson. Even in this early stage of 
her married life she was contrasting the un- 
pretentious manner of her husband with this 
brilliant conversationalist, and secretly admit- 
ting greater affinity for the latter. 

The bride’s table had an additional plate, 
and by a dexterous act of diplomacy Senator 
B. had obtained encouragement to sit at his 
friend’s table at dinner. Never did friendship 
appear more sincere nor to better advantage 
than in this instance. The two gentlemen dis- 
cussed the grandeur of the theme which had 
formed the basis of the clergyman’s discourse 
that morning, and each sought to interest the 
bride and to secure her opinion of the sermon. 
But the same imperturbable manner that had 
marked her course hitherto sealed her lips, and 
prevented an expression of opinion. After re- 
turning to the bride’s parlor, the gentlemen ex- 
cused themselves and repaired to Senator B.’s 
room for the enjoyment of the rich fragrance 
of Havanas. 


170 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


The reception to be given to the Mississippi 
planter and his Northern bride by his confreres 
was to be an elegant affair. It was to begin 
at eight p. m. and terminate with a grand ball. 
Eixcept an early drive with her husband, the 
bride did not go out that day, nor did she see 
any one who had the temerity to call. 

Although men and women were engaged in 
putting finishing touches to the preparations 
for the grand reception to be given in honor 
of “the sweet young lady who had left home 
and native land and cast her lot among 
strangers,'’ she had no idea of the magnitude 
of the preparations for her enjoyment, and in- 
troduction to the bon-ton of Mississippi so- 
ciety. A thousand lights from chandelier, can- 
delabra, and lamp shone over as brilliant an 
assemblage of lovely women and gallant men 
as ever graced royal court. Flowers rich and 
rare added beauty and fragrance to the scene. 
Amidst its enchantment, as if to eclipse all 
else in beauty, appeared the bride, in a snowy 
lace-trimmed satin robe, leaning upon the arm 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


171 

of the bridegroom. They were ushered in by 
Senator B., who also led the way to the open 
doors separating the large, well-filled parlors. 
Under an arch of evergreens and flowers they 
paused, and in a few well-chosen words he in- 
troduced his friends to the admiring throng. 
All arose simultaneously in honor of the beauti- 
ful bride and her popular husband, who smiled 
and bowed in cordial response. His Excel- 
lency the Governor, and his amiable, motherly 
wife were evidently much pleased with the 
charming personality of the bride, and the dig- 
nified and affable bearing of the bridegroom, 
and bestowed flattering attentions upon them; 
while the young ladies and gentlemen of the 
assemblage greeted them with unfeigned cor- 
diality, and many congratulations and friendly 
assurances. 

My uncle never appeared to greater advan- 
tage. Perceiving that his wife had, either from 
indifference or embarrassment, chosen to be 
taciturn and unresponsive, he forgot the weight 
of forty-five summers, with their responsibili- 


172 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


ties and cares, and entered into the festivities 
of the occasion with the buoyancy of a youth- 
ful benedict who had attained his heart's fond- 
est desire. 

Music in soft and beguiling strains added 
inspiration to the scene; and when the order 
“Take your partners" rang out from the room 
set apart for the dancers, in tones so distinct 
as to catch all ears, my uncle arose, and, bow- 
ing to his wife with Chesterfieldian grace, 
asked her if he should have the pleasure of 
dancing the first set with her. Surprise and 
amusement contended for the mastery as she 
accepted the proffered honor, and as she took 
his arm to be conducted to the salon she said, 

“I have never before had the slightest inti- 
mation that you dance." 

“Dancing,” replied he, “was once a favorite 
recreation with me; but my solitary mode of 
life, and, much of the time, uncongenial asso- 
ciations, caused me to abandon it, and to seek 
necessary exercise in field sports and horticul- 
tural work; but since our marriage I have de- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


173 


termined to practice my old steps and learn 
new ones, that my wife may not be wholly de- 
pendent upon others for guidance and support 
through the figures of the mazy dance.’’ Sur- 
prise and amazement still made the face of 
the bride a study, and the groom, catching her 
spirit, laughed and said, ‘‘Have no fear ; I think 
I shall be able to carry you through the first 
set all right, but if I should fail to do so I know 
with whom to trust you — one who will guard 
you as sedulously as your husband.” 

With natural pride and conscious right my 
uncle led his fair young bride to position in 
one of the sets. Having hitherto declined par- 
ticipation in the fascinating exercise, my uncle 
surprised many of his friends as well as his 
wife by the performance of accurate figures 
and graceful movements. With no desire to 
display his accomplishments, his every step was 
easy, and enhanced the beauty of hers, and 
many admiring eyes were riveted upon her 
lithe, pretty form as it glided through the fig- 
ures with her graceful partner. 


174 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


There were also covetous eyes taking in the 
situation, and planning the capture of the prize. 
As soon as the last figure had been executed, 
and the order to “Seat your partners” had been 
obeyed, Senator B. approached the couple “to 
claim the promised privilege of waltzing with 
the bride” — a promise which no one remem- 
bered but himself. The alacrity, however, with 
which she exchanged partners could not be ig- 
nored by her husband, and he could not help 
seeing that her manner was more animated and 
her conversation more vivacious; and when 
with the first notes of the seductive music the 
attitude of waltzers materialized, the deep 
crimson of his face and neck attested his dis- 
appointment and chagrin. Not in the least em- 
barrassed by the pained look that followed 
them through the mazes of this most repre- 
hensible dance, they sought not to conceal the 
enjoyment it gave them. 

As if by preconcerted arrangement, as soon 
as it was finished they repaired to one of the 
broad piazzas and entered upon a promenade 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


175 


which was kept up at intervals until midnight. 
‘‘Now the serpent was more subtle than any 
beast of the field, and he said unto the 
woman,” — this beguiler did, — “I love you with 
an unspeakable love that knows no bounds, and 
can no longer submit to conventional restraints. 
I know by the affinity of our natures that your 
heart responds to mine, and I cannot longer 
withhold the offer of myself and all my worldly 
possessions from you. Will you be mine? For 
prudential reasons, I do not ask undue haste, 
but I beseech you to speak the word that will 
bless me with the assurance of your love — that 
will give me hope of ultimately being united 
to the only woman who has ever completely 
enthralled me, soul and body.” 

A pronounced pressure of her hand and 
inclination of her head spoke the word he 
sought to hear. He clasped her to his heart, 
and with unholy kiss vowed that as long as life 
should last he would love her, and her only. 

Even at this early date she had lost that 
wffiich she could never regain in the society 


176 THE TRANSPLANTED 


to which she had been proudly introduced by 
her husband ; and long after her eyes closed in 
slumber he paced the corridor trying to formu- 
late plans for the greater security of her good 
name. That it was necessary to remove her 
to a locality less filled with temptation, he saw 
against his will; but what was to be his pre- 
text ? Sooner would he have opened an artery 
from which his life blood would flow than to 
give utterance to a syllable reflecting upon her ; 
and yet he was constrained to remove her from 
the fascination of the ballroom and the se- 
ductive influence of a man of the world. 

In this dilemma he almost welcomed a letter 
from his overseer, which informed him that a 
great loss had befallen him. The plantation 
barn and its contents, including many mules 
and horses, had been burned by an incendiary 
fire, and all work suspended for lack of farm- 
ing utensils and stock. 

This letter telling of disaster and loss was 
handed to my uncle by the porter in the pres- 
ence of his wife. After reading it he handed 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


177 


it to her with the request that she read it. She 
did so, and handed it back to him without com- 
ment; but was evidently greatly disconcerted 
when her husband asked that her maid should 
proceed at once to pack her trunks. Reticent 
as was her usual course toward him, she now 
in words unmistakable in meaning told him 
there was no reason why he should return to 
the plantation. 

‘Wealthy men,” she said, “transact business 
by agents, and if you do not belong to that 
class of gentlemen I have been deceived.” 

“Pack trunks, and receive bank check for 
wages,” was my uncle’s laconic order to his 
wife’s maid, notwithstanding this logical argu- 
ment against it. 

In due time the bride’s phaeton (drawn by 
Kentucky’s best equine blood — a recent addi- 
tion to her possessions) and the baggage 
wagon received their respective freight, and 
began the homeward journey — the coachman, 
wagon-driver, and outrider no less averse to 
leaving the gay city than was their mistress. 


178 THE TRANSPLANTED 


After passing the last suburban residence my 
uncle took from a small valise a package of 
newspapers, and the latest issues of Harper^ s 
and Godey'Sy and handing them to his wife 
asked her to take her choice. Very naturally 
the magazines and a Boston newspaper were 
her preference. Each asked to be excused, 
and soon became oblivious to present objects 
and intent upon learning about those more 
distant. The coachman's usual merry words 
to the horses seldom broke the silence. He, 
too, had drunk deep of the dissipation and 
frivolity of city life, and was disappointed be- 
cause of having to leave it so soon. Elated as 
he had been by the many compliments bestowed 
upon him by the dusky maidens of the capital, 
— who, as with one voice, pronounced him ‘‘the 
mostest polished gent’man, considerin’ his 
country-raisin’, they had ever seed,” — how 
humdrum plantation life would now appear ! 

At times the paper my uncle held fell to his 
lap, powerless to interest, and he gazed long 
and anxiously upon the beautiful, living statue 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


1/9 


before him. Neither uttered a syllable, nor 
did she raise her eyes to meet his; but she felt 
his gaze, nevertheless, and had she seen it, so 
full of tenderness and pathos, she might have 
relaxed her determination to keep him aware 
of her disappointment. 


CHAPTER XIII 


The arrival of my uncle and his wife at Rose 
Circle, though unannounced, was not alto- 
gether unexpected, and suitable preparations 
greeted them. Although the winter had robbed 
the grounds of much of their floral attraction, 
yet there remained many beautiful features. 
Cedar, spruce, pine, and other evergreens sug- 
gested the emerald garb of springtime; violet, 
crocus, hyacinth, and daffodil fairly danced a 
minuet in honor of the beautiful exotic trans- 
planted within their borders from the frozen 
North. Trees and semi-tropical plants 
stretched out their moss-covered limbs as if to 
take her in loving embrace. 

Undisturbed by crack of huntsman’s gun, or 
boyhood’s trap, birds built their nests and 
hatched baby birds in blooming bush and lofty 
tree, and all day long they hopped from branch 
to branch and sang the songs of Paradise. 


THE TRANSPLANTED i8i 

On the threshold of this pretty home my 
aunt and I met uncle and his wife, and, offer- 
ing sincere greeting, led the way to the bridal 
chamber prepared for them with loving care 
and tender interest. 

With manifestations of pride, Anne, ‘^the 
colored girl,’^ accepted the position of maid of 
honor to the fair queen of Rose Circle, and 
was attentive and faithful in the discharge of 
her duties; but it required no extraordinary 
discernment to perceive that she liked better 
the manner of those accustomed to the rela- 
tions of mistress and slave than that of one 
who began those relations with half-concealed 
pity for the degradation entailed upon her race 
by slavery. 

When my uncle’s wife joined us in the par- 
lor, arrayed in a white mousseline delaine tea- 
gown, with lace trimmings, and a pearl neck- 
lace about her snowy throat, she suggested 
again the most beautiful creation of Byron in 
his happiest mood. My aunt and I attested 
our admiration for her by again clasping her 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


182 

hand, and giving her the kiss of affection, and 
sincere assurance of our pleasure at seeing her 
installed mistress of Rose Circle before depar- 
ture for our home in Georgia. 

Alf, who had become a well-trained butler, 
and Esther, who, as housekeeper, flourished 
as a green bay tree, were heard discussing their 
new mistress. 

‘‘Now ain’t her purty?” asked Alf. 

“Purty is nuffln’ — her de buterfullest w’ite 
^oman I’se eber sot mer two eyes on, so her 
are. But I ain’t er gwine ter praise ’er yit 
erwhile. My ol’ Miss’ done teach dis nigger 
dat ‘purty is as purty do.’ So I’se er gwine 
ter wait an’ saw how her gwine ter product 
’erse’f ’fore I say er bressed word fer her — 
so I is,” was Esther’s lengthy reply. 

The young wife seemed not in touch with 
her environment, and, without any positive 
manifestation of dislike, she was evidently will- 
ing to be thought indifferent to them. Why? 
The pretty house, remodeled after the most 
approved architecture for her pleasure and con- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 183 


venience, was a thing of beauty to every be- 
holder. The decorations of the apartments 
Vvere an inspiration to high and holy thoughts. 
Pictures rare and beautiful hung upon the 
walls ; books to suit every mood were arranged 
upon the library shelves; soft breezes dallied 
playfully with silken drapery and her own 
beautiful tresses; and he who had provided 
this luxurious home was preeminently lovely in 
character and traits of heart and mind. Then 
why this apathy ? Had the serpent hypnotized 
her, and stolen the love she had avowed for 
her husband at the marriage altar ? The scene 
in the ballroom in which she waltzed with his 
colleague, and kindred scenes enacted at the 
capital during her brief sojourn there, were 
kept alive in his memory by her inexplicable 
conduct toward him, and suggested an affirma- 
tive answer. But he neither wearied nor re- 
laxed in his efforts to interest her. The pas- 
sionate love of Romeo and Juliet, of Petrarch 
and Laura, of Sappho, and of the heroes and 
heroines of the romancers with whom he lived, 


1 84 THE TRANSPLANTED 


moved, and had his being when seized by the 
matrimonial fever, awakened longings for a 
demonstrative love, — a craving for aliment 
that would nourish a hungry heart, — and he 
redoubled his efforts to obtain from her recip- 
rocal evidences of the love he bore her. 

Although her coming into his life was out 
of the usual order, and in moments of unre- 
served contemplation of the whole affair he 
had been led by subsequent events to see its 
folly, yet, nevertheless, he could not close his 
eyes to the fact that he was responsible for it ; 
and this awful awakening had determined him 
to sedulously protect her from all harm and 
the very appearance of wrongdoing. And 
now by a long-suffering devotion he hoped to 
win, sooner or later, as his exceeding great 
reward, the love he had fondly believed was 
his when they plighted their troth. 

Without seeming to do so, my aunt and I 
noticed with pain the restraint which our pres- 
ence at Rose Circle evidently imposed upon my 
uncle's wife, and we gladly agreed upon an ex- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


185 


cuse for an early departure for our Georgia 
home. To this my uncle objected, urging the 
unpleasantness of early spring travel, and per- 
ils by the wayside. Our minds, however, were 
fully made up, and no persuasion could cause 
us to waver. 

During the few days of preparation for our 
long journey by United States mail coach, we 
had endeavored to convince the young wife of 
our love and sincere wishes for her health and 
happiness in her new home. An earnest, heart- 
felt invitation that she should visit us received 
from her husband the promise of a visit from 
them during the ensuing summer. 


CHAPTER XIV 


The news reached the quarters that “Mar- 
sler’s sister and niece’^ would leave Rose Circle 
Thursday morning in time to take the tri- 
weekly coach, and when that day dawned, clear 
and brilliant as the sparkling diamond, many 
of the plantation negroes and all from the “big- 
house’' assembled to say good-by to ‘‘Miss 
Lucy, and Miss Polly’s sweet little chile,” 
whose storehouses of memory were freighted 
with affectionate messages “ter our w’ite fokes 
in ol’ Georgy” ; and not a black hand grasped 
curs but that received substantial token of 
sympathy and aid. 

The barouche stood at the door, and the 
beautiful bays and the coachman, as well, 
showed signs of restlessness; and yet the fare- 
wells had not been spoken. She who might 
have been accepted as a model of the Venus of 
Milo stood motionless in an alcove of a win- 
dow, and showed no disposition to participate 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


187 


in the parting scene. This apathy we appeared 
not to see, and when my uncle hurriedly 
grasped her hand and led her toward us, we 
met her with an affectionate embrace and lov- 
ing words. My uncle’s face, naturally rosy, 
had reddened to a deep crimson, and when he 
clasped our hands and gave the parting kiss he 
could not repress tears of mingled grief and 
chagrin. 

Our baggage had preceded us, and we were 
at the station in good time. While the pas- 
sengers and the driver of the stage, or, as the 
latter pompously called it, “the United States 
mail coach,” were at breakfast at the station 
“eating-house,” the two coachmen from Rose 
Circle were exerting their ingenuity to obtain 
from my aunt and myself some expression of 
opinion regarding “Marster’s wife”; but we 
were in turn too ingenious to betray any ad- 
verse thought. Perceiving this, they were not 
at all backward in announcing the fear that 
“Marster would be mighty sorry he hadn’t er 
took Miss Marthy.” 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


1 88 

‘Who is she T’ I asked. 

“Dat purty, smart lady w’at stays at Major 
VV'inston's. Her’s bin in love wid Marster 
harder den a mule ken kick, but somehow, er 
somehow else, he jes’ couldn’t love her,” said 
Charles, the most loquacious of the twain. 

“He is very fond of his wife, and will make 
her a good husband,” said my aunt. 

“Yas’m, I knows he’ll mek her a good hus- 
ban’. My Marster’ll mek any ’oman a good 
liusban’, but he erbleeged ter know her not lak 
cur w’ite fokes — dat’s er fac’.” 

“That will do — not another word,” said my 
aunt. 

“No’m, I won’t say ernother word; but I 
mus’ say she not lak our w’ite fokes,” added 
the irrepressible Charles. 

Nor was she ; but my aunt and I did not care 
to discuss the difference with my uncle’s slaves. 

The one hour granted by good Uncle Sam 
(of democratic renown) for rest and refresh- 
ment had well nigh expired, when one of our 
sable attendants discovered in the distance the 


THE TRANSPLANTED 189 

approach of a carriage, which he thus an- 
nounced : 

^‘Bress de Lord, ef yander don’t come Mar- 
ster Winston’s kerridge ! I knowed it — I 
knowed ef my Marster an’ his hifalutin’ little 
Norden wife couldn’t come ter see his own 
bone an’ meat off ter home, way yander in 
Georgy, bigger fokes dan her would come. 
Sumpin’ tol’ me so, es I come ’long f’um dat 
purty place w’at dey calls Rose Circle.” 

In close proximity to the stage the carriage 
halted, the door opened as if by magic, and the 
tall, graceful form of Major Winston appeared 
upon the scene. His wife, daughter, and son 
followed in quick succession; and last, but not 
least, the well-developed, easy, graceful Miss 
Martha Buckingham, like a gleam of light 
joined the group of friends. The stage- 
driver’s bugle sounded the note of warning 
that time waits not for formalities, and that 
the farewells must be spoken. 

The utilitarian would scarcely have found in 
this brief interview compensation for his 


190 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


trouble; but Major Winston in paying this 
tribute of respect to his colleague’s relatives 
experienced keenest pleasure, and his family 
regretted that we should so soon part after so 
short an acquaintance. Miss Buckingham, 
though very quiet and undemonstrative, evi- 
dently felt more than we thought circum- 
stances justified. There was a look and 
manner about her that in my inexperience T 
could not divine. 

Eddie and I were hilarity exemplified, and 
promised each other all sorts of absurd things ; 
and when I sought to secure the promise that 
he would never tell that he had seen me enjoy- 
ing the exhilarating effects of champagne to 
the full extent of what that implies, he vowed 
he would tell it, as he had never seen me look 
so angelic as then. 

A second blast of the bugle admonished us 
that this time “the parting hand” must be 
given. Eddie with mock gravity announced 
that there was one farewell performance that 
could not be done in a hurry, and with tears 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


191 

in his eyes and in his voice entreated the stage- 
driver to allow time for the kissing ceremonial. 

Although every desirable seat in the coach 
had been taken by passengers who had pre- 
ceded us, yet, through the influence of Major 
Winston, a back seat was abdicated in our 
favor. The day being unusually fine, the pas- 
sengers by acclamation voted that the curtains 
should be rolled up, thus enabling us to con- 
template the picturesque scenery on our line 
of travel. Our fellow-travelers, consisting ex- 
clusively of gentlemen, were refined and cul- 
tured, and enjoyed as much as we did many 
exquisite bits of scenery that greeted our 
vision, and brought us into communion with 
their Divine Creator. 

As nothing pertinent to these sketches oc- 
curred on the route to our Georgia home, we 
will resume our narrative as reported to us by 
a faithful chronicler. 


CHAPTER XV 


After we had vanished from sight of Rose 
Circle on the morning of our departure, my 
uncle, perceiving that his wife had taken a 
seat in the window recess and was deeply 
absorbed in a book, approached her and asked 
what she found so entertaining. 

‘‘A book from the library,’' she replied. 

“ 'Gil Bias’ !” he exclaimed with surprise. 

"Yes, and I think it deeply interesting.” 

"I think that the library furnishes better 
reading and more profitable themes for dis- 
cussion, my little one,” said my uncle. 

Receiving no reply, and noticing that his 
wife was still intent upon reading that which 
was to him obnoxious, he told her that he had 
long thought of resuming a course of reading 
more than once commenced, and he thought 
now was the time to do so, and he would be 
more than delighted to have her join him in 
it. He expatiated enthusiastically upon the 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


193 


pleasure and profit that such a course of read- 
ing would be to them. 

Without looking at him, she told him in 
reply that she could not put her mind upon 
solid reading; that she did not read for profit, 
but rather to pass away time, and the lighter 
the literature the more agreeable to her — and 
she continued to read, as if oblivious of his 
presence. 

Chagrined and disappointed, he left the pres- 
ence of the woman who could thus wantonly 
wound his feelings, and went to his dressing- 
room, from which he soon came transformed 
into a different-looking character. The courtly 
gentleman had doffed the elegant home suit, 
ordered with view of pleasing his wife’s taste, 
and appeared in huntsman’s blouse and leg- 
gings of forest green, with cap of same color 
and fabric. Shot-bag and silver-mounted horn 
were suspended over his shoulders. Thus ac- 
coutered, a j aunty-looking Nimrod was he. 
A shrill blast called forth from their kennels 
as pretty a pack of well-trained hounds as 


194 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


could be found in the grand old Common- 
wealth of Mississippi — also Alf, and Gus, and 
Ben — all eager for the chase. 

While my uncle was having the usual pre- 
liminary romp with the dogs, the boys saddled 
the horses, and when all was ready he returned 
to the alcove and said to his wife, whom he 
found still absorbed in the book he had con- 
demned : 

‘‘My bugle blast has summoned all my pets 
but my most beloved. Won’t she join me in a 
chase? It may be only a rabbit-chase, but that 
will be exhilarating, and in a measure exciting. 
Won’t she come with me, and be my mascot 
to-day?” 

“If you are speaking to me,” she replied, 
“I thank you ; but I decline the honor you pro- 
pose. Excuse me, please.” 

With strange sensations that wrung his 
heart with anguish, and almost stilled its pul- 
sations, he again turned his back upon his wife. 

A favorite pastime with her, when she had 
the energy to indulge it, was that of walk- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


195 


ing to and fro in a secluded portion of Rose 
Circle, with all the restlessness born of dis- 
content, and with a manner so repellent that 
only a brave heart could have approached her. 

June, in ecstasy over her beautiful products 
of flower, form, and color, was dancing, sing- 
ing, and clapping her hands with joy at Rose 
Circle, and bidding all who came within her 
domain to be happy; but there was one there 
who would not respond to her behest. My 
uncle’s wife preferred the seclusion of her own 
chamber and the indulgence of unholy memo- 
ries to the dalliance of innocent, health-giving 
breezes that would have played with her ring- 
lets and kissed her brow, her cheeks, her lips, 
and left no contamination. When her husband 
suggested a return of some of the calls made 
upon her by many of the good people of his 
district, and especially by his friends the Win- 
ston’s, she had surprised him more than once 
by saying that there was company nearer to 
her that she enjoyed more than she would that 


196 THE TRANSPLANTED 


of those he had mentioned. As she had not 
sought to impress him that his presence was 
all in all to her, he very naturally concluded, 
that the negroes had been taken into her con- 
fidence, and were furnishing the company to 
which she alluded; and in this connection he 
remembered that more than once he had found 
Esther sitting in her room in close conversa- 
tion with her, and noted the evident interrup- 
tion his coming produced. Once he had heard 
Esther say, ‘‘Yas, my purty young Mistus, dese 
gals ken certenfy dat w’at I tells yo’isder trufe. 
Dey could, fer sho’, ef dey would speak out. 
Speak out, gals, an’ let de trufe be knowed.” 

But notwithstanding the peremptory order 
of this wicked woman, the girls did not speak 
out, but with defiant eye replied that they had 
nothing to tell, and did not believe a word that 
she had told. Infuriated at this emphatic dec- 
laration by an ‘hnfe’or,” as she was pleased 
to term all the negroes who dared to differ 
with her, she sprang like a tigress upon Anne, 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


197 


and, shaking her violently, she thus relieved 
herself : 

“Yo’ good-fer-nufhn’ yaller-faced nigger 
gal, yo’ dar’ ter ’die’ me. Queen Anthracite! 
Yo’ knows I’se tol’ de trufe. I’se er gre’t min’ 
ter beat de life outen yer.” 

After this characteristic outburst of a semi- 
barbarous woman, who needed the advice and 
control of a firm will, the girls went before 
their mistress and curtsied. She asked them 
what they wanted. 

“Ter go ’way, ef yo’ don’t wan’ us any 
furder.” 

When all had gone but Esther, my uncle’s 
wife asked her what she meant by calling her- 
self “Queen Anthracite.” 

“Yo’ see how et is,” said Esther, “mer fa’der 
wLis er mighty big man, he wus ! Er king, he 
wus — King Anthracite. So yo’ see, my purty 
Mistus, I ain’t no common nigger. I’se er 
queen. Queen Anthracite.” 

“Where did you get the history of your royal 
family, Esther?” 


198 THE TRANSPLANTED 


‘‘Mistus, I tell yo’ how et is. Dat boy Alf 
w’at yer sees walkin' erbout 'ere, looken' ser 
gran', is er mighty smart boy, I tell yo’ he are, 
an' w'at he doan' know, nobody do; an' he tol' 
me mer fa'der wus er mighty big man in 
Aferca, an’ dat he wus er king, an' in course 
I'se Queen Anthracite." 

‘T fear, Esther, you have been deceived by 
Alf. I have never heard of a king by the name 
of Anthracite. There is a coal — a hard, black 
coal — used for making fires in stoves and 
grates, that is known as anthracite coal. I 
guess Alf gave you a royal title in connection 
with anthracite because you are so deeply 
colored. The wicked boy !" 

When the truth dawned upon Esther she 
flew into another passion, and said and did 
such wicked things that I will not inflict them 
upon my friends. 


CHAPTER XVI 


‘‘Quality’s er cominV’ was proclaimed to 
the occupants of Rose Circle in the stentorian 
voice of Alf, as he walked with martial step in 
front of the sitting-room. My uncle and his wife 
met Major and Mrs. Winston, and Miss Buck- 
ingham, and never friends came more oppor- 
tunely, or brought brighter sunshine. After a 
cordial greeting, and a discussion of that ever- 
convenient topic, — of interest alike to the 
farmer and the lawyer, to the patrician and the 
plebeian, — the weather, and exchanging fore- 
casts of its future conditions, the gentlemen 
retired to the library to discuss State affairs as 
developed at the last legislative assembly, and 
Congressional possibilities; for, be it known, 
each one of these honorables had aspirations 
that led to the National capital. 

Thus thrown upon their own resources for 
themes of discussion, the ladies displayed re- 
markable versatility of thought and expression. 


200 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


and the general literature of the day came in 
for a good share of their attention. Mrs. Win- 
ston and Miss Buckingham ran along in the 
same beautiful channel of thought, as if both 
had breathed the aroma of the Sunny South’s 
sweetest flowers, and received alike her hos- 
pitable greeting on their advent upon this mun- 
dane sphere. On entering Flora’s kingdom, 
Mrs. Winston showed herself the superior in 
knowledge. She had reveled among flowers, 
wildwood and cultivated, breathed their fra- 
grance heightened by the early morning dew, 
and yet again at sunset’s holy hour when hum- 
ming-bird and bee sought their liquid sweets, 
until she had assimilated to them and become 
the sweetest flower that bloomed in all this 
sweet country. 

In the realm of general usefulness — ^the 
sick-room, the hospital, and public charities — 
Miss Buckingham possessed superior knowl- 
edge. Her practical eye seldom made a mis- 
take with regard to the nature of a malady and 
its inroads upon the system, and many a suf- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


201 


ferer had cause to bless the day that gave him 
the benefit of her advice. 

My uncle’s wife had no practical knowledge 
of anything, but on this occasion she chose to 
be very pleasant, and exercised so much tact in 
concealing her ignorance that it was scarcely 
noticeable by her intelligent guests. Therefore 
the conversation, though varied, was sustained 
by this trio in a manner edifying to each, and 
the morning passed unawares. 

As if waiting for the strokes of the clock to 
number twelve, precisely at the last one Alf’s 
grotesque figure, in a large white apron, and 
hands encased in white cotton gloves, appeared 
in the doorway, and with a bow which must 
have been practiced in front of a mirror to at- 
tain its precision, not to say perfection, he an- 
nounced that ‘Truits an’ millions is ready.” My 
uncle’s wife gracefully escorted the ladies to a 
little pavilion on the rear piazza, shaded from 
the sun by flowering vines. In this cool re- 
treat Alf had temptingly arrayed melons just 
out of the cold, crystal waters of the spring- 


202 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


house, and fruits almost bursting with the nec- 
tar of health. 

The two honorables had preceded the ladies, 
and were arranging on plates generous slices 
of watermelon unsurpassed even by Georgia’s 
m.ost famous product. The melons were not 
really sliced, but halved, and in these ample 
proportions served by Alf, who manifested dis- 
appointment because they were not thoroughly 
devoured by his master and the guests ; but he 
assured them they would be excused if they 
would just eat ‘^de bes’ plums dey ever seed in 
deir born days.” 

His master and Major Winston told him 
that in giving them such a feast of fruits and 
melons he had given them a great surprise as 
well, and asked him by what process he had 
obtained them. 

“Ef yo’ means ter ax me howsomever I come 
ter raise dese purty millions an’ de udder 
thin’s, I reckin I’ll hev ter tell yer. Yo’ see 
how it are. I toted some big bodes ter de top 
er de gin-house, ’cause I knowed dat wus 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


203 


somewhar mer Marster didn’t go ter, an’ I 
tuck er hammer an’ some nails an’ I go up dar 
merse’f, an’ I mek er big box, mos’ big ’nuf 
ter bury Unc’ Sam in, — so I did. Den I toted 
big hamper baskits full er de bes’ dirt yo’ ever 
sot yo’ eyes onter, an’ I put it in de box, an’ 
den I tuck mer baskit ergin an’ I gits ’um full 
er ’nure, an’ I teks it an’ I puts it inter de box 
’side er de dirt, an’ I stirs all tergedder, an’ I 
lebels it, an’ den I draps my million seed inter 
li’l’ holes dat I scratches out wid mer fingers. 
I looks ebry mornin’ twell I see ’um cornin’ up, 
an’ den I gives ’um a li’l’ drink er watter at 
er time, an’ er plenty er sun, an’ dey grows an’ 
grows, an’ w’en dar’s no mo’ col’ wedder I sets 
’um out in de fiel’. Dat’s how I come ter have 
dese purty millions fer mer good Marster an’ 
Mistus an’ de quality-fokes w’at comes ter de 
big-house.” 

‘What about the grapes ?” asked Mrs. 
Winston. 

‘T muzzles dem so,” said Alf, illustrating the 
modus operandi of that feat by taking a not 


204 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


very immaculate handkerchief from his pocket 
and tying it over some flower buds near at 
hand. ‘^Yo’ see I goes inter de vin’ard an’ I 
Vv^atches de vines, an’ w’en I sees de buds er 
cornin’ I lets ’um erlone ef it’s purty wedder, 
but ef it’s bad, er I sees it gwine ter be, I muz- 
zles ’um es I tole yer.” 

His master thanked him for his surreptitious 
service and its results, and promised to pro- 
mote him to a superintendency on the Rose 
Circle plantation; and Major Winston added 
to the youth’s pleasure by going his security 
that he would be faithful in all things. 

After this delightful treat my uncle and 
Major Winston joined the ladies in the parlor, 
and music was in order — ^soft, sweet, and 
soothing. My uncle’s wife was at her best, and 
acquiesced in everything that gave pleasure to 
others. In the midst of an amusing recital, in 
the same quaint, unique manner as that em- 
ployed in the announcement concerning ‘Truits 
and millions,” Alf reported ''dinner ready.” 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


205 


The mistress of Rose Circle led the way, and 
assigned complimentary places at the table to 
her guests. While all were standing Alf 
created an enjoyable laugh and much amuse- 
ment by the unceremonious order, ‘^be seated,” 
an order as readily obeyed as if coming from 
the hostess herself, and with the same alacrity 
by herself and husband as by their surprised 
guests. My uncle remarked, sotto voce, that 
this was not one of the customary usages of 
their table. 

Esther was there in all her glory. While 
her retinue of maid-servants were '^taking up 
the dinner,” and skilfully arranging it on the 
table, she was off removing all signs of labor 
from her gaunt person, and donning a genteel 
black silk frock given her by Mrs. Winston 
several years before. A white apron, a white 
kerchief, and a white turban very carefully 
arranged sustained her oft-repeated declaration 
that she was “no common nigger.” The girls 
had evidently been inspected by her approv- 
ingly. Waiters in hand, they stood in position 


2o6 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


while solemn invocation was repeated by Major 
Winston — 

‘‘O most merciful Father, who hast blessed 
the labors of the husbandman in the returns of 
the fruits of the earth; we give Thee humble 
thanks for this Thy special bounty ; beseeching 
Thee to continue Thy loving kindness unto us, 
that our land may yield us her fruits of in- 
crease to Thy glory and our comfort, through 
Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.’' ‘"Amen” was 
repeated with much fervor by each one of the 
table group. 

Esther was proud of the success she had 
achieved in the cuisine department, and as soon 
as the ‘‘amen” was uttered she signaled the 
waiters that their part of the programme was 
in order. To their credit, few mistakes were 
made, and every feature of the sumptuous en- 
tertainment gave satisfaction, and none more 
than the rich anecdotes the gentlemen told on 
each other in connection with their sojourn at 
the State capital. The ladies enjoyed the wit 
and repartee, and their merry laughter em- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


207 


boldened the servitors to betray their partici- 
pation in the merriment. There was one pres- 
ent, however, who did not fully enter into the 
enjoyment of the occasion. More than once 
her face blanched, and the pretty red spots 
which her husband had often called his peach 
blooms, which of late had been of deeper shade 
upon her cheeks, now looked like bruises ; and 
in other ways she manifested agitation and 
concern. This my uncle perceived, and he re- 
membered that in the course of the table talk 
the name of Senator B. had been spoken in 
connection with the warm friendship which ex- 
isted between them, and he wondered if linger- 
ing admiration for him could have produced 
so marked an effect upon his wife, and he 
adroitly gave a different turn to the conversa- 
tion. He narrated many pleasant incidents in 
which his wife took part, and in which she was 
the controlling spirit ; but in vain the effort to 
restore the animation which had marked her 
course in the forenoon. 


208 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


Esther was much perturbed by the turn 
affairs had taken, and whispered audibly, ‘‘Ef 
Td er knowed it w’d er bin dis er way. I’d er 
not put de big pot in de li’l’ one, so I wouldn’t.” 
Mrs. Winston and Miss Buckingham found 
much to praise and admire in the cuisine, and 
consoled Esther by asking her for the recipes 
by which several of her dishes were prepared. 
In the mean while, the gentlemen, quite restored 
to equanimity, did full justice to the many deli- 
cacies, and a sitting of more than an hour at 
the table was quite flattering to Esther’s vanity. 

Miss Buckingham, who from long inter- 
course with the sick, and familiarity with 
symptoms, had suspected the existence of a 
latent disease in the system of my uncle’s wife 
which had already made inroads upon her 
health, was now convinced of the correctness 
of her opinion, and insisted that out-door exer- 
cise, and the breathing of the piney-woods 
atmosphere, easily attained from Rose Circle, 
would be a benefit to the entire party after so 
epicurean a repast. All concurring in this 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


209 


opinion, Alf saw that the carriages were soon 
ready for the drive to “the piney- woods.’’ 
Upon arriving there the party roamed about, 
sniffing the rich pine aroma, and now and then 
resting upon the soft brown carpet of fallen 
“needles,” amusing one another by cracking 
jokes and playing with the embryo burrs which 
were nestling among the leaves of the drooping 
branches of the trees. My uncle’s wife seemed 
to be benefited by the jaunt, and promised Miss 
Buckingham that she would take it every day. 

The lengthening shadows of the trees, and 
the soft sea breeze that had the benevolence to 
reach out over that portion of the State, sug- 
gested to the guests that the hour for their leave- 
taking was at hand. The visitors did not have 
to retrace their way tO' Rose Circle, as the 
piney-woods were almost on the direct route 
to Major Winston’s, and but a short distance 
from the entrance to the causeway. Therefore, 
promises were made for an early return, and 
adieus were spoken amid the pines. 


210 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


To the happy surprise of my uncle and his 
wife, Miss Buckingham playfully announced 
that the Boston girl who had the good sense 
to renounce the follies and pretensions of a city 
life and accept the seclusion of a Mississippi 
plantation, was an attraction from which she 
could not separate herself for several days to 
come, and she was, therefore, going back in 
the bride’s carriage to stay a while at Rose 
Circle. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Miss Buckingham’s presence at Rose Circle 
was a source of much enjoyment to the in- 
mates, and under her strong but sympathetic 
influence my uncle’s wife developed sensibili- 
ties and attractions of mind and character 
hitherto held in abeyance by some hidden cause. 
Her husband was open to this discovery, and 
wooed her confidence as no one had ever done 
before. He was rewarded by a brief biographi- 
cal sketch of herself, which threw some light 
upon her course toward him from the day of 
their first meeting until the present time, and 
to an extent exonerated her from suspicions 
which, alas, were too well founded. Although 
he could never forget the mortification she had 
occasioned him by a reckless display of volup- 
tuous accomplishments, and an unjustifiable 
fondness for Senator B.’s obtrusive attention 
during her brief sojourn at the capital, he had 
not in any way been made aware of the extent 


212 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


to which her infatuation had led her, — ^^the 
scene on the piazza of the hotel, the night of 
the ball, had never been revealed to him by 
mortal intimation, — and he was charitably in- 
clined toward all her shortcomings. Indeed, 
accustomed as he had ever been to underrate 
his own fine qualities of mind and heart, he 
had caught himself wondering how he could 
have been attractive to her ; and had he yielded 
to impulse and sentiment, rather than to a 
mysterious something in psychology, which re- 
strained him, he would on bended knee have 
implored her forgiveness for the want of 
greater devotion to her. This mysterious 
something contented him with subsequent de- 
votion, without an acknowledgment of the lack 
of that which had ever been at her service in 
such quantity as she seemed disposed to accept. 

In the sketch of herself which she furnished 
him she admitted that she knew but little of her 
parents, and nothing of her remote ancestors. 
Her mother, she said, was a poor but respect- 
able girl, born and brought up in Boston, edu- 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


213 


cated in the public schools of that city, and 
beautiful in person, mind, and heart. A gentle- 
man from Buffalo, New York, saw her upon 
the day of her graduation, and so admired her 
that he sought an introduction. His admira- 
tion intensified, and he offered himself wholly 
and unequivocally, was accepted, and a hasty 
marriage ensued. She was not received as an 
equal by his aristocratic family; and he was 
persuaded that he had made a mistake when 
he sought to assimilate indigence and affluence. 
By degrees he lost his fondness for her, which 
was not restored even by the birth of a little 
daughter. Separation and divorce followed; 
alimony was allowed the mother and child; 
and the father was provided with a wife more 
in keeping with the tastes of his family. The 
child was educated in the same schools that 
had done so much for her mother, and extra re- 
mittances, anonymously made, secured the ac- 
complishments of art and music, and the equip- 
ment necessary to obtain position as governess 
in good families; and it was in that capacity 


214 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


she was acting when she chanced to see my 
uncle’s advertisement for a correspondence 
with view to matrimony. 

Regarding himself as wholly responsible for 
the mistake he had made, he determined to 
make the best of it, and renew his devotion to 
his wife. Her autobiographical sketch was 
wonderfully familiar to him. He had found 
instances of like character in romances from 
the most renowned pens to the humblest aspi- 
rant for literary fame, and yet he believed it, 
and felt a personal interest in it which inspired 
tender regard for the little child who had been 
deserted by its father, and by a chain of cir- 
cumstances, in which he had welded an impor- 
tant link, had been brought a lifetime offering 
to him; and he again and again renewed his 
vow to love, honor, and cherish her until death 
did them part. 

In the mean time. Miss Buckingham was 
watching the symptoms very closely, and mak- 
ing domestic remedies which she hoped would 
cure the hacking cough which of late had 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


215 


grown more troublesome. Her stay at Rose 
Circle had been protracted into weeks, and yet 
she showed no disposition to bring it to a close ; 
indeed, a movement in that direction would 
have met strong opposition from both my 
uncle and his wife. She had done much by 
wise and thoughtful ministrations to alleviate 
the sufferings of one whose malady she now 
began to fear had intrenched itself and would 
baffle ordinary remedies. Therefore, she dis- 
patched Alf with a confidential letter to Mrs. 
Winston, who lost no time in answering in per- 
son. Requested in the letter to do so, Mrs. 
Winston came in the most cheerful spirits, and 
rallied Miss Buckingham about deserting her, 
her oldest friend. With a motherly grasp of 
the hand she kissed the cheek that already 
showed signs of emaciation, and told my 
uncle’s wife she would have to take her home 
with her and make her eat more. 

“I asked Esther after the health of the 
household,” said Mrs. Winston, “and she re- 
plied, ‘Dey all say dey es well, but ef mer 


2I6 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


young Mistus es well, I don’t know er well 
pusson w’en I sees ’um. W’y, her don’t eat 
’nuff ter keep er bird erlive, much less er 
singin’. Marster, him go in der woods, an’ 
he shot a quail ev’y day, he do, an’ dat nice 
Norden lady, Miss Buc’n’ham, she hoi’ it over 
live coals twell et’s done, an’ den her put er 
li’l’ butter outer et, an’ den her put et outer 
er piece er toast light-bread, an’ her brung dat 
inter her, an’ er cup er weak tea — an’ dat’s all 
her eats at er meal. Sometimes mer Marster 
brungs her en himse’f an’ sets her down ter de 
table, an’ tells her tO' eat w’at she want, an’ she 
do et, an’ et don’t seem ter hurt her, neider.’ ” 

Miss Buckingham interrogated Esther re- 
garding the habits and symptoms of my uncle’s 
wife, and learned that she had employed every 
art to conceal from her husband the existence 
of a deep-seated cough, and oftentimes pain 
over the region of the lungs. 

*T has seed merse’f de han’kerchers her uses 
w’en dem coffs comes outer her,” said Esther, 
‘'an’ dey es stained wid blood; but her es got 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


217 


somethin' her takes w’en dey comes on, er liT 
w’ite somethin’ dat looks lak flour, et do — an’ 
it mos’ ginerally stops et.” , 

Miss Buckingham had heard enough to con- 
firm her most painful apprehensions, and 
deemed it her duty to acquaint my uncle with 
the condition of his wife. He was appalled. 
He dispatched Alf on the fleetest horse to the 
cross-roads, in time to take the U. S. mail 
coach, and carry in person a letter addressed 
to three of the most skilful physicians in Mem- 
phis, urging them to come immediately to Rose 
Circle to consult in an important case. With 
all the haste that could possibly be made, 
several days elapsed before Alf returned from 
the important mission, accompanied by a trio 
of as skilled physicians as ever passed judg- 
ment upon disease. Not knowing, and per- 
haps never having heard of them, their coming 
occasioned no surprise to her whom they came 
to see. My uncle frequently having guests 
from the leading cities of the State, this event 
created no suspicion. Men who school them- 


2i8 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


selves to hide their thoughts and opinions can 
diagnose disease without its victims knowing 
what they are doing; and such was the case 
in this instance. 

When these learned .^sculapians (among 
them one of the famous Taylor brothers) pro- 
ii-ounced judgment upon the disease and pres- 
ent condition of my uncle’s wife, he was over- 
whelmed with remorse. Had she come to him 
sound in body, and through his neglect, or 
want of his affectionate care, contracted the 
fatal malady, he could not have blamed him- 
self more; and he was willing to carry her to 
the uttermost parts of the earth and to employ 
the skill of the universe to save her from early 
dissolution. But the physicians told him hers 
was an inherited disease that had been forced 
into development by youthful exposure, and 
that no human treatment could avert the sad 
denouement. 

The summer climate, temperate for the lati- 
tude, and fraught with health-giving breezes, 
could not have been surpassed; and yet my 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


219 


uncle, although his wife had never expressed a 
desire to go, conceived the idea of giving her a 
delightful surprise by taking her ‘^home,’’ as 
she always called Boston. Miss Buckingham 
took the lead in preparation for this journey, 
and in all things was faithful, efficient, and 
sympathetic. Mrs. Winston came often, and 
her mother-like care and solicitude for the 
young wife did much to relieve my uncle, and 
encourage him to keep up a brave heart, and 
particularly a hopeful manner in the presence 
of his wife. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


When all was ready the Winston carriage 
and the bride's phaeton stood side by side and 
received their respective passengers, my uncle 
and his wife starting to where she knew not, — 
her destination to be a surprise to her, — the 
Winstons accompanying them to New Orleans 
to see them on board one of the elegant ves- 
sels belonging to the celebrated line of Morgan 
steamships which then plied between Galves- 
ton, New Orleans, New York, and Boston. 

The weather being favorable, the trip from 
Rose Circle to New Orleans was delightful, 
and she for whom it was planned evidently 
enjoyed it. Having arrived at New Orleans, 
my uncle discovered that the schedule on the 
Morgan Line had been changed since last he 
took note of it, and that several days' sojourn 
in that beautiful city was inevitable. This fact, 
in view of the pleasure it would doubtless give 
his wife and Mrs. Winston to visit places of 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


221 


historic and general interest, occasioned no 
disappointment, and he and Major Winston 
took rooms at the famous St. Charles Hotel. 
The waiting period was delightful. Sight-see- 
ing, pleasure-seeking, and church-going were 
alike exhilarating, especially to the young Bos- 
tonian, who, before coming South, had never 
been out of the limits of her native city, unless 
perhaps on festival occasions. Under bene- 
ficent skies and genial sunshine she found her 
mind expanding, and her physical being gain- 
ing strength every day; and when at length it 
was announced that their ship was ready to 
sail, with buoyant step she went aboard with 
her husband and his faithful friends, and in the 
ecstasy of joy kissed her husband and sent a 
kiss to “good Miss Buckingham.'’ 

The voyage was one of uninterrupted inter- 
est and enjoyment. Not a ripple of the sea, 
nor a murmur of a wave signaled alarm, and 
peacefully the ship sailed into the famous har- 
bor of Boston. Standing upon deck, her hand 
clasped in that of her husband, she took in the 


224 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


fully scrutinized her face, her form, her man- 
ner. 

^Tt is a lie! I never heard anything like it 
at the South, and I know if such things had 
been true I would have seen it!’^ was the ve- 
hement utterance of my uncle’s wife as she 
pointed out whole columns in a newspaper de- 
scription of abuses of power and of cruelties at 
the South, which none but Satan could have 
inspired and none but Munchausen described. 

He drew her to him and kissed her, saying, 

‘T too have had a rather exciting experience 
on the street and in the hotel corridor. As if 
by electric communication it has been made 
known that a Southern ‘slave-driver’ is in the 
city, and a preacher had the audacity to ap- 
proach me and ask me if I was not a South- 
erner, and an affirmative answer provoked bit- 
ter anathemas upon my head from this clerical 
inconsistency. But I am glad to tell you that 
he and such as he do not represent the intelli- 
gence of Boston. Already I have met men, 
noble and true, who, like the immortal Webster, 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


225 


cannot go down to death in the abyss of dis- 
union, if that dread calamity can be averted 
by justice to all sections of this glorious Union 
of States, and I think wisdom and moderation 
will prevail to such an extent in the councils 
of our republic as to put to shame the efforts 
of fanatical hypocrites to force disunion upon 
the Southern people. 

‘‘But let us change the subject of our con- 
versation to one more pertinent to the object 
of our being here — that of seeing your dear 
mother, and assuring her of my interest and 
willingness to aid her in every way. In my 
day-dreams I have seen her presiding over a 
pretty cottage erected near Rose Circle, espe- 
cially for her, that she might be our neighbor 
and friend and mother. Wouldn't that be 
nice ?” 

“Your fascinating way of suggesting relief 
to my mother from the toil of a lifetime, en- 
dears you to me manyfold; but I fear when 
you see her you will not feel like demonstrating 
your generosity in so conspicuous a manner. 


226 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


Though a good woman, she is very, very plain 
in personal appearance — in attire, from neces- 
sity; in person, from years of hard work and 
hard living — and I scarcely think you would be 
willing to introduce her to the Winstons, and 
others of your set, as my mother.” 

‘Wou are not yet acquainted with your hus- 
band if you think such paltry, yea, such ig- 
nominious considerations would with him 
weigh a feather in the scales where moral 
worth and Christian virtues preponderate. Put 
on your hat and a light wrap and I will show 
you the duties of a loving son. In person I 
carried a letter to our mother’s door, and, with- 
out revealing my identity, delivered it to her. 
In this letter I wrote that her daughter and her 
husband from Mississippi would call upon her 
this afternoon for the purpose of arranging to 
have her with them at the hotel during their 
stay in Boston.” 

His wife, much affected by this generous 
proof of affection, smiled through tears, and, 
throwing her arms around his neck, kissed 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


227 


rather than spoke her thanks. We will not 
enter with the daughter the humble abode of 
the mother, in which she was reared; nor will 
we repeat the words of consolation spoken by 
the noble man who went with her. Suffice it to 
say that when the carriage returned to the 
hotel it contained a third person, the mother 
of his wife, and he was not ashamed of her. 

Encouraged by the example of her husband, 
my uncle’s wife displayed much fondness for 
her mother; and never was a woman happier 
than this mother. Accustomed as she had been 
since her unfortunate marriage to ‘‘a gentle- 
man” to regard herself as his inferior, unfitted 
for “upper ten” association, this was a new, a 
delightful phase of life to her — a revelation 
that a true-born gentleman, conscious of his 
claim to family prestige and personal worth, 
could afford to be polite to the poor. Her 
discerning eye discovered in her daughter’s 
husband all the qualities of a noble man — re- 
finement, culture, elegance of manner, and a 
heart that displayed its sympathy in ways so 


228 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


gentle and sincere that she confided in him as 
a son, and loved him as such. 

His unremitting attention to his wife, and 
constant effort to amuse and entertain her, en- 
deared him all the more; and together they 
worked with but one object in view — ^the resto- 
ration to health of their loved one. 


CHAPTER XIX 


The best medical skill was employed; but 
after a brief rally it was apparent that coming 
from the South to her native clime had effected 
no permanent change in her condition. Weeks 
grew into months and brought no change for 
the better. A favorite posture with the invalid 
was to recline with her head upon her hus- 
band’s bosom. Upon one of these occasions 
he asked her if there was anything he could 
do to contribute to her happiness. ‘‘Yes,” she 
replied. His loving caress attested his willing- 
ness to tread the wine-press, or to walk through 
a fiery furnace if need be, to attain that object. 
“What is it? Do tell me,” and he placed his 
ear near to her lips that he might catch her 
softest whisper. “Take me home”; and, as 
if afraid she would not be understood, she said, 
“Take me back to Rose Circle.” 

If anything had been lacking to increase her 
husband’s love and devotion to her, this request 


230 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


would have furnished it. He caressed her 
hair, her cheek, her hands with loving touch. 
The ‘"peach blooms” had faded from the lily- 
white face, and her hands had grown so thin 
that one by one she had removed the rings she 
had worn with pride, and had given them un- 
conditionally to her husband and mother. 

Her desire to be carried home had been com- 
municated to the physicians and their advice 
solicited. One of them opposed the step; while 
the other rather encouraged it, and said to her 
husband, "Tt makes but little difference as to 
the result. Vitality is almost exhausted, and 
nothing, even in this advanced age of science 
and skill, has been discovered which will re- 
store it.” 

As the question of going was settled, pre- 
paratory arrangements began, which, when re- 
vealed to the invalid, seemed to give temporary 
impulse to life, and she took interest in every 
movement. That her mother might be pre- 
pared to give up her humble home in Boston, 
the last of November was set as the time to 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


231 


start for the South. A consideration also 
determining this date was that the ship which 
brought them from New Orleans to Boston, 
with its Christian captain, would sail then for 
their destination. In addition, the weather 
prophet had foretold a hard winter with storm 
and snow, and hence the greater importance of 
the return trip being made as early as the date 
which had been set. 

By methodical effort the last arrangement 
had been made, and nothing remained for my 
uncle to do but to carry his wife to the proud 
ship that was to bear her homeward. During the 
interim, and while she was sleeping, he went 
out to meet in the parlor of the hotel patriots 
noble and true who had come to bid him good- 
by, and to entreat him to work faithfully for 
the grand old Democratic party — the Magna 
Charta of the Republic — in the coming cam- 
paign. Beguiled by wit, wisdom, and patriot- 
ism, he lingered longer than he had desired 
or intended. With a twinge of conscience he 


232 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


hurried to his wife's room, and, entering it, 
was appalled beyond utterance. The white 
cashmere wrapper which enveloped her fragile 
form was saturated with blood, pale thin blood 
which had lost its vital qualities and could no 
longer perform its functions in the mechanism 
of life. Skilful physicians were summoned, 
but to no avail. “Life’s fitful fever was over,” 
and no human power could give it back. Since 
that favored period when Jesus walked on 
earth, and proved by divine attributes that He 
was the Son of God, no Jairus’s daughter has 
been raised from death untO' life by mere mortal 
touch. 

A period of secluded grief for the bereft 
husband and mother could not be extended be- 
yond the prearranged date, and quietly, as if 
afraid of disturbing the slumber of the white- 
robed form lying upon the crimson-cushioned 
couch, the preparation proceeded, hastened 
rather than retarded by the melancholy event. 
The undertaker came; and white horses draw- 
ing a white hearse, adorned with white plumes. 


THE TRANSPLANTED 


233 


walked slowly up the driveway, and waited 
before the door for the white casket that con- 
tained all that was mortal of my uncle’s 
Northern bride, to be borne on the white- 
crested billows of the mighty ocean to Rose 
Circle, her Southern home in the great cotton 
belt of Mississippi. 




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Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: 



PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGIES. INC. 
Ill Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Twp.. PA 16066 
(412) 779-2111 




